


remember me (for centuries)

by inkin_brushes



Series: Immortals (Vamp AU) [54]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6283474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkin_brushes/pseuds/inkin_brushes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taekwoon’s earliest memory was sitting beside his grandmother’s sickbed, reading aloud to her in a small, high voice. Death, he’d learned young, was ruthless and came for anyone, everyone, without mercy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNINGS:** mentions/recollections of past abuse, recollections of torture, gore, violence, depictions of death, and abuse of a demonic raccoon ; if you’re concerned about being triggered u can dm me on twitter and ask anything you need to, i don’t mind spoiling and giving a more thorough run-down if need be.

Hakyeon was playing the bait tonight.  
  
They were waiting. A gentle breeze picked up, blowing the scent of warm asphalt and cigarette smoke over Sanghyuk. Beside him, leaning idly against a lamppost, was Wonshik, the artificial light above turning him sickly yellow, shadows sharp.   
  
“How much longer?” Sanghyuk asked, trying to mutter it out so if anyone was watching, they wouldn’t be able to read his lips.   
  
Wonshik swept his foot out, knocking it light against Sanghyuk’s bony ankle. “Patience, kiddo.”   
  
Sanghyuk scowled at the nickname and looked over Wonshik’s shoulder, at the doorway to the club Hakyeon had disappeared into.   
  
It didn’t take much longer for Hakyeon to come stumbling out, appearing for all the world to be drunk, drunk and easy. He looked sleek tonight, in his skintight jeans, black shirt clinging enticingly to his body. Sanghyuk marvelled at his ease, at the way he tripped into an alleyway, his joints loose. But Sanghyuk knew he was sharp, sharp as a dagger’s blade. He wondered if he would ever be this good, able to wield the confidence to let down his defences far enough to lure vampires in like a sickly sweet trap.   
  
The darkness swallowed Hakyeon up, and Sanghyuk felt his own spine stiffen, tenseness coiling in his shoulders. Wonshik still looked languid, but Sanghyuk could tell he was reaching out, feeling for a disturbance, for the magical wash of recoil that would mean Hakyeon had gotten a bite. Sanghyuk strained, but he felt nothing, not even after Wonshik had said, “Now,” and finally moved off the lamppost, striding swiftly across the street. Sanghyuk trailed after him, jogging to keep up with Wonshik’s longer strides.   
  
Hakyeon came out of the alleyway as they approached, his hair ruffled and blood on his hands. There was always something about him after a hunt. He was crackling with energy, with magic, like there was something under his skin, too big for him, seeping through.   
  
“You alright?” Wonshik asked, reaching out and laying his hand on Hakyeon’s shoulder. The concern and affection in his voice was almost as thick as the magic skittering over Hakyeon’s skin.  
  
“Yeah,” Hakyeon replied, his chest heaving as he panted. “Yeah.”   
  
Wonshik smiled, and Hakyeon’s cheeks flushed, and Sanghyuk remembered thinking that everything in this moment had felt right.   
  
——  
  
The room smelled thickly of blood, very dead blood, the cloyingly sweet scent of vampire almost sickening, made even more so by the very faint hint of rot underneath it all.  
  
Jaehwan looked down at the body of the vampire, splayed out on the floor of Kyungsoo’s workshop. The little sorcerer had shoved his work table out of the way to make room for it, and he’d placed a semi-stasis spell over the corpse. There were thick pins, metallic, sunk into the vampire’s skin at its shoulders, palms, thighs. The metal buzzed with magic. Kyungsoo couldn’t put the body fully in stasis, since he needed to work with it, try and peel away the magical layers and find what little he could. But he’d put a mild one down, to try and slow the degeneration. Even vampire corpses rotted.  
  
Hanging along the wall of the workroom were all the charms Jaehwan had pulled off the creature, necklaces and bracelets glinting in the stark light. Kyungsoo had notes taped up beside them, labels he’d made as he had gone over each one.   
  
It had been one night, two days, since Sanghyuk had been attacked. Jaehwan was impressed with how much Kyungsoo had uncovered, but it still wasn’t enough.   
  
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Jaehwan,” Kyungsoo muttered. He knelt beside the body and gingerly pulled back the layer of linen he’d pressed over the vampire’s chest, over those warded marks. As he did so, the scent of rot intensified, and it was unlike anything Jaehwan had ever smelled before. The wounds, wards, carved into the vampire’s chest— the stasis spell was having a harder time with them, it seemed. The flesh, already charred and raw, was blackened and curling, shrivelling. Kyungsoo wrinkled his nose and stepped away.  
  
“I suppose I simply will take any information you have,” Jaehwan replied, feeling how pinched his own face was. “Anything else you’ve gained.”  
  
“I can’t get anything off this—” Kyungsoo gestured down at the vampire’s chest, the mess of decaying flesh. “It’s too dead, all of it. If I took the stasis spell off— it would degenerate even faster than the rest of the body. I think it was very dead even before the vampire himself was.”   
  
  
“It smells putrid, even considering it’s rotting flesh,” Jaehwan said. “It just doesn’t smell right.”  
  
“I think that has to do with all the energy it absorbed, and possibly because— I don’t know, I can’t find any living signature on it, and wards all have that, because they were cast by sorcerers, who, as you know, have to be living,” Kyungsoo said, and Jaehwan fought down a wince. “I wonder if it didn’t do this to itself, somehow.”  
  
That thought was unsettling. “How?”  
  
Kyungsoo shrugged. “I honestly don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like this. But I don’t think it’s an accident that the wards were carved into its own flesh, unhealing and festering.” He gestured to the wall, to the charmed necklaces and bracelets. “Those were all cast by sorcerers— none of them living, I don’t think, and none of them were made _for_ this vampire. It simply collected them and threw them all on, hoped they would work.”  
  
Jaehwan felt his hands curl into fists. He was— angry, so angry still, the memory of Sanghyuk wounded and bloody too fresh. The fact that he hadn’t seen his lover since, cooped up in the hospital as he was— it wasn’t improving Jaehwan’s mood. He wanted someone to blame, someone to tear into, and while he was grateful Hongbin had nullified the direct threat so thoroughly, he still wished he could have gotten a piece. Barring that, he would take secondary sources, but there didn’t seem to be any.  
  
“Jaehwan,” Kyungsoo said, and Jaehwan looked to him. “I think it’s best if maybe, you let the trail die. I told you last night— I couldn’t find any blood relatives for this creature, it has no children, its maker is dead. Let it go. If you go out searching for revenge— you might bring something worse back at you. And Sanghyuk may have been hurt but— he _lived_ , Jaehwan. Need I remind you of the conditions of the prophecy you told me?”  
  
Jaehwan pursed his lips together unhappily. _Sanghyuk is going to die, he is going to die and it is going to be bloody and your fault_. “No,” he said stiffly, “no, you do not.”   
  
Kyungsoo made a good point, Jaehwan had to admit, even if he did so sourly. His actions had ripples beyond himself, and he should take care, so Sanghyuk wouldn’t be hurt.  
  
Silence fell over them, for a long stretch of seconds, before Kyungsoo said, “I would like to see him, at some point. Sanghyuk.”  
  
“When he’s out of the hospital and feeling better I can bring him by, with Ilhoon,” Jaehwan said, grinning sharply and Kyungsoo groaned.   
  
“I hate that you’ve done this to me, foisted an apprentice upon me. I didn’t _want_ one,” Kyungsoo said petulantly.   
  
“You could have said no; it was merely an idea, and I owed it to Ilhoon to ask,” Jaehwan said. It was a debt he’d had to pay.   
  
“The Balance has decided it was more than that, it has taken Ilhoon to be payment for past— favors,” Kyungsoo said, and he heaved a heavy sigh. “I don’t think I can refuse him.”   
  
Jaehwan looked at the body between them, the grotesque face, the hole where Hongbin had ripped its heart out. “Life is strange,” he murmured. His eyes flicked back up to Kyungsoo. “I think he will do well with you— he reminds me of Hakyeon, in some ways. And of you, in others.”  
  
“I do not think I would get along with myself very well,” Kyungsoo said darkly, and that made Jaehwan laugh, head tossed back, because he understood that sentiment well.  
  
His phone buzzed then, and he quieted as he pulled it out, smile still twisting his lips. Ilhoon had messaged him. “Speak of the devil,” Jaehwan murmured, swiping his phone open to read the text.   
  
_Sanghyuk is at my place, they let him out of the hospital_.   
  
Jaehwan felt himself go still. They’d released him? So soon. Perhaps Jaehwan was simply overprotective— hell, he knew he was, but he’d thought Sanghyuk was wounded enough to warrant an extended stay.  
  
But if he’d been let out, it meant Jaehwan could see him, and he felt so much of the tension in him ease at the thought.   
  
“What is it?” Kyungsoo asked.  
  
“Sanghyuk’s out of the hospital,” Jaehwan said softly, looking up from his phone to see Kyungsoo staring at him.   
  
There was something in the depths of Kyungsoo’s eyes Jaehwan could not read. “You’d better go, then,” he said, and though he tried to hide it, Jaehwan saw a slight smile on his mouth as he brushed by him to flit out the door.   
  
——  
  
Sanghyuk lay on Ilhoon’s couch, his lanky limbs taking up the whole length of it. He was already missing the morphine drip. They’d leaned his crutch up against the wall next to his head. His left ankle was encased in a soft cast, much like his wrist was. It could be worse. At least he could still walk, even if he needed help.  
  
They’d gotten dinner before coming home; McDonald’s, the remnants of which, paper bags and wrappers, were strewn over the coffee table. Sanghyuk had been ravaged, the consequences of being unconscious for a day and half.   
  
Hyunsik puttered around, tidying up their mess, and Sanghyuk could see Ilhoon in the kitchen, waiting beside his coffee machine as it perked. He was fiddling on his phone, and as Sanghyuk watched he shoved it back in his pocket and then got out mugs.   
  
“Everything okay?” Sanghyuk called and Ilhoon grunted, pouring the coffee into three mugs before carefully bringing them into the living room and setting them on the coffee table.  
  
“I was telling your undead dildo that you’re here,” Ilhoon said, and Hyunsik choked.  
  
Sanghyuk felt himself flushing. “I— what?” he asked. “Jaehwan? You’re— texting Jaehwan?”  
  
“Very good,” Ilhoon said, squishing Sanghyuk over so he could sit on the edge of the couch. At Sanghyuk’s mutually horrified and confused expression, he added, “He took the body of that vamp to Kyungsoo for— research, I guess. He’s been keeping me updated on it. And in turn, I’ve kept him updated on you. You’re welcome.”   
  
The thought of Ilhoon and Jaehwan texting was bizarre, to say the least. And if Ilhoon had just told Jaehwan he was here— Sanghyuk opened his mouth and then paused, his medication-addled brain trying to piece together how to say this delicately. “You do know telling him I’m here is basically an invitation, right?” he finally said, and Hyunsik looked alarmed while Ilhoon scowled.  
  
“I haven’t told him where we live—” Ilhoon began, but then stopped and closed his eyes when he saw the face Sanghyuk was making. “But he knows where we live, doesn’t he? Fuck.”  
  
“Probably,” Sanghyuk said, slightly apologetic.   
  
“Will he be able to come in?” Hyunsik asked.  
  
“Not unless you properly invite him.”  
  
Hyunsik seemed relieved, but Ilhoon knew better, knew Jaehwan was stubborn, knew they were going to have a vampire in their living room momentarily. “I don’t suppose he drinks coffee, does he?” he asked, smiling thinly.  
  
“He’ll behave,” Sanghyuk said, weary. He felt tired down to his bones. “He’s going to be happy to see me, I hope.”   
  
Sanghyuk thought of the last time he’d seen Jaehwan, of the manner of their parting. It had been two days, and it didn’t feel such to Sanghyuk, because he’d been unconscious, but for Jaehwan— he’d probably spent the last two days somewhat agonized. And add that to the fact that Sanghyuk had chosen then, that exact moment, to— to tell him— fuck, that had been cruel of him, to admit to it at such a pitch of emotion, of fear and relief, and then to leave Jaehwan right after, unable to talk through what it meant for them.   
  
They were going to have to talk, Sanghyuk knew, and it made him feel guilty to know he’d made Jaehwan wait for it, and was going to have to make him wait more, because he— he was in too much pain, and too medicated, to articulate anything deep, right now.  
  
“Did you tell him I quit hunting?” Sanghyuk asked, knowing that would bring up even more questions, on Jaehwan’s end.  
  
Ilhoon shook his head. “I didn’t feel it was my place.” He looked at Sanghyuk levelly, thoughtful, and murmured, “I still can’t believe you just— just quit.”   
  
Sanghyuk still quite couldn’t either. It would feel surreal, for a while. If he lived for a while. “It— it felt right. But when Jaehwan finds out he’s going to be—” He broke off as the house wards rippled, his tattoos prickling. “Insufferable.”  
  
Hyunsik stiffened, his face paling as his fingers tightened on his mug, and beside Sanghyuk, Ilhoon straightened, his shoulders going painfully tense. Alertly, Ilhoon looked through the kitchen to their front door. “Does he know which apartment—”  
  
A shadow passed over the living room window, blocking the light from the streetlamps that was seeping in through the cracks in the closed blinds. Then came the ever-familiar sound of knuckles on glass.   
  
“You can’t be fucking serious,” Ilhoon whispered to himself, voice dripping in disbelief. Awed disbelief. It was a feeling Sanghyuk knew well, in regards to Jaehwan.   
  
“Let him in or he’ll lurk there all night, and I don’t think we want the neighbors seeing that,” Sanghyuk said with a sigh, pushing lightly at Ilhoon’s shoulder.  
  
Ilhoon flicked a glance at him, incredulous. “Oh my fucking god,” he said, but he stood and went over to the window, while Hyunsik was backing away, making a noise like a boiling kettle.  
  
“Are you going to be alright?” Sanghyuk asked Hyunsik, who was watching with wide eyes as Ilhoon pulled the blinds up to reveal Jaehwan perched precariously on their window ledge. He couldn’t make out his face. “He won’t hurt you.”  
  
“I’m okay,” Hyunsik said hoarsely. The sound of Ilhoon unlatching the window was like a shot in the quiet of the room.  
  
“Our windows swing outwards,” Ilhoon said very simply, and then he shoved the window open, and Jaehwan fell backwards off the ledge and out of sight. He’d made a very un-vampiric noise. “But you can come in,” he added, speaking up and into the darkness of the night.  
  
In the next moment Ilhoon was on his back on the floor, knocked there as Jaehwan came in through the window, faster than Sanghyuk’s eyes could track.  
  
“Sorry,” Jaehwan said lightly, stepping over Ilhoon and scanning the room. Ilhoon glared daggers up at him, but Jaehwan paid him no mind, because he’d caught sight of Sanghyuk and frozen.   
  
Sanghyuk swallowed. He knew what Jaehwan was seeing, he’d had to use the bathroom earlier, had looked at himself in the mirror. The bruises had really bloomed in the few days since the attack; the side of his face was deep purple and blue in patches, fading off around the edges into sickly yellow. His lips were cut up on the insides, swollen, and the stitch on his bottom lip just added to the effect. He was glad for the casts and gauze on his other injuries, glad for the clothing covering up any other bruises, because though Jaehwan’s face was blank, Sanghyuk could see in his eyes he wanted to set fire to someone’s life, render them into ashes.   
  
“I’m alright,” Sanghyuk said, his heart aching. He held out his hand, his uninjured left one, palm up. “Jaehwan.”  
  
Jaehwan was so still, so severe and cold looking, that it was like staring up at a statue. But then he moved, and even used to it as Sanghyuk was, it made goosebumps break out over him, his nerves jangling and tattoos rippling with warmth. Jaehwan stepped forward and took Sanghyuk’s hand, his skin warm, and then sank down to sit on the edge of the coffee table. “Love,” he whispered, and touched his free hand to Sanghyuk’s bruised cheekbone. It was a brush softer than a breeze, but Sanghyuk still flinched. Jaehwan drew his hand away.   
  
“He’ll be alright,” Ilhoon said, and Sanghyuk startled a little at the sound of his voice; for a moment, it had just been him and Jaehwan out of time. Jaehwan was magnetic like that. Ilhoon had sat up and scooted to the coffee table, his arms resting on the fake wood. “They wouldn’t have let him out of the hospital if they thought there was any danger.”  
  
Jaehwan’s gaze lingered on Sanghyuk’s face for a few more breaths, eyes roving over his features, before he turned to look down at Ilhoon. Sanghyuk was worse off, between the two of them, but that bruise across Ilhoon’s forehead wasn’t pretty either, and Jaehwan appeared to be taking it in. Ilhoon’s jaw tensed as Jaehwan’s stare lingered on him, and Sanghyuk could almost feel it, feel Ilhoon fighting his fight or flight response.   
  
Finally, Jaehwan murmured, “Thank you. For taking care of Sanghyuk.”  
  
Ilhoon’s expression hardened, like he was steeling himself. He was very close to Jaehwan, almost touching, and Jaehwan wasn’t easing up on him, but Ilhoon held himself still. “I didn’t do it for _you_. Sanghyuk is my friend. And you’re here to take him from us,” he said, and Jaehwan’s hand tightened slightly on Sanghyuk’s.  
  
“I will not take him anywhere he does not wish to go,” Jaehwan murmured. “But yes, I would like to take him home— to my home.”  
  
Ilhoon snarled a little. “He’s drug-addled and you’re a manipulative ass. It’s better for him here, where he’ll get air and food and _sunlight_.”  
  
Sanghyuk opened his mouth to argue the notion of him being _drug-addled_ — he was out of it, but not nearly as much as he'd been even a few hours ago. Before he could form his thoughts into words, Jaehwan was speaking again.  
  
“Perhaps,” Jaehwan said, surprisingly magnanimous. It made Sanghyuk’s mouth snapped shut. “I do think Sanghyuk should have— sunlight, I know it is healing. But, darling Ilhoon, you’ve not the space for him, and do you not think it would be better for you, to have some peace and time to mourn what you’ve lost?”  
  
Ilhoon flinched back, pain twisting his face.   
  
“That is,” Jaehwan continued, finally looking away from Ilhoon so he could meet Sanghyuk’s eyes once more, “if Sanghyuk wants to go with me.”  
  
There was so much in Jaehwan’s eyes, a storm Sanghyuk could feel tugging at him. “I— I have to move out of my apartment,” he whispered, and Jaehwan’s brow hitched in confusion. “I quit hunting, and HQ owns my apartment— I figured I’d be moving in with you anyway.” He swallowed nervously.  
  
Jaehwan blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “Oh,” he whispered. “You— quit?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sanghyuk said, and part of him felt sad over it, but at the same time, another part of him was— happy. It bubbled up in him, especially at the look on Jaehwan’s face, and Sanghyuk found himself smiling, a little, and it tugged on his stitch unpleasantly. “I quit.”  
  
Jaehwan’s eyes were shining, and he blinked rapidly, looking down, looking away. “I—” he began and then stopped, swallowing thickly. “I can’t say I am not pleased about this. But— are you sure? It doesn’t make a difference— Ilhoon said— you’re still going to die aren’t you?” Jaehwan looked to Ilhoon, who simply stared back. “We haven’t escaped.”   
  
“That’s what he said, yeah,” Sanghyuk said tiredly. Ilhoon had told him such earlier, after Kris had left his hospital room. His life was still coming to a close. “I’m going to die, Jaehwan, but— I know how, now. I know when.”  
  
Jaehwan’s face snapped to look at him, and he looked like he was in so much pain. “What?” he gasped. “Ilhoon— he saw?”  
  
“No,” Sanghyuk murmured. “I’ve decided.”  
  
For several long beats, Jaehwan simply stared at him, perplexed, but then he realized what Sanghyuk meant. Vampires couldn’t faint but— Jaehwan looked like he might.  
  
Under his breath, Ilhoon whispered, “ _Fuck_.”  
  
——  
  
The house was quiet, when they walked in. It was always quiet, Wonshik knew this by now, but even so, sometimes it was grating. He often wished it was a peaceful, content silence, but more often than not it simply felt like coming home to a tomb. He’d voiced this before, and Hongbin had laughed and said it sort of was one.   
  
Tonight, though, there was someone here. A breathing someone. Hongbin stopped walking in the living room, and Wonshik stopped too, their intertwined hands tugging between them for a moment.   
  
“I smell Sanghyuk,” Hongbin said, tipping his face up and scenting the air.   
  
Wonshik could too, but— “I don’t remember Jaehwan saying anything about Sanghyuk being let out of the hospital.”  
  
Hongbin shrugged, and he and Wonshik shared a look, the both of them wondering what this meant.   
  
As if summoned by them speaking — or even thinking — of him, Jaehwan was suddenly there, flickering into the living room from the hallway. He looked tired. Tired and small.  
  
“Jaehwan— Sanghyuk’s here?” Wonshik asked, unable to keep the emotion from his voice. He’d been worried. Despite what they’d done, they hadn’t arrived in time to keep Sanghyuk from being knocked around, badly. He could still hear Sanghyuk’s screaming echoing through the streets. The guilt had been gnawing at him.  
  
Jaehwan nodded shortly. “He is resting, the pain medication he has been given is potent, and he has just taken another dose. I fear he is a bit— not himself, but perhaps it is better he is high than in pain.”  
  
There was an odd note to Jaehwan’s voice, and Wonshik had learned Jaehwan well enough to recognize when he was hiding pain under a flat ice surface. “Is he alright?” Wonshik asked, concerned as to what exactly had Jaehwan looking this way.  
  
“He is hurt,” Jaehwan said, and though his voice remained tightly controlled, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “But the doctors say he shall make a full recovery, apparently.” Wonshik didn’t know why Jaehwan didn’t sound pleased about that.  
  
“I wasn’t expecting them to let him go so soon,” Hongbin said softly.   
  
“Nor I,” Jaehwan replied.  
  
“And he didn’t want to go home?” Wonshik asked, watching Jaehwan carefully. He knew Jaehwan loved Sanghyuk dearly, and he wouldn’t put it past him to have used this as an opportunity to smuggle him down here long term.   
  
Jaehwan looked away from them, studying the carpet. “He— he will be moving in with us. At his own request.”  
  
Wonshik jerked. “What? Why?” He didn’t mean to, but he sounded a little horrified.   
  
“He has quit hunting,” Jaehwan murmured, still looking at the carpet, face shuttered.  
  
There was silence, and it almost seemed to echo in the largeness of the room. Wonshik didn’t react outwardly, but inside, he was reeling. He’d never thought Sanghyuk would quit hunting. Finally Hongbin whispered, “To be with you?”  
  
Jaehwan’s face twisted. “Presumably,” he said, his voice so soft it was barely audible.  
  
Wonshik stared at Jaehwan, who very determinately avoided his eyes. In a rush, Wonshik realized Jaehwan seemed _guilty_. Which didn’t make any sense, as he would have thought his was exactly what Jaehwan would have wanted. “Jaehwan,” he murmured, “what aren’t you saying?”  
  
Jaehwan swallowed, looking up at Wonshik through his lashes, face still downcast. “I cannot speak of it now— I cannot yet face it, and I must— Sanghyuk and I must talk, at length, but only once he is more lucid. Until then, I wish him to rest, and he can do that here. We can care for him as he heals.”   
  
Jaehwan’s voice was a little shaky, and though he tried to hide it, he seemed fragile, like a house of cards, like a touch of the slightest breath would topple him. Wonshik decided that for now, he wouldn’t push it.   
  
“Can I see him? Sanghyuk, I mean,” Wonshik asked, and Jaehwan looked surprised.  
  
“Or course,” Jaehwan replied. “You don’t have to— of course.” He made a little, aborted motion, half gesturing towards the hallway. “Just bear in mind he is— out of it.”  
  
“I don’t want to talk to him much, really, just see him,” Wonshik said. Jaehwan nodded, expression twisted, and Wonshik knew he understood. The desire to be near, to know he was safe.   
  
Wonshik walked past Jaehwan, flickering through the hall, and noted that Hongbin was not following. Perhaps he wanted to press Jaehwan, even if Wonshik did not. He wondered if Jaehwan’s current state had to do with what Sanghyuk had said after he’d been attacked. _I have to tell Jaehwan I love him_. Perhaps between that, and having Sanghyuk here, permanently, no longer hunting— maybe it was just too much at once.   
  
The sound of Sanghyuk’s heartbeat, steady, bled out of the Jaehwan’s cracked bedroom door when Wonshik approached. He should have known Jaehwan would put Sanghyuk up in his own room.   
  
There was a single candle lit, placed on the nightstand, surely only for Sanghyuk’s benefit, but Sanghyuk appeared to be asleep, tucked under the thick duvet, face peaceful. As Wonshik approached he could smell the sharp scent of antiseptic, and the somewhat noxious scent of offset chemicals, and tucked under the gauze, the very faint smell of healing, sweet and somewhat unpleasant.   
  
Wonshik knelt by the side of the bed, reaching over to place his hand over Sanghyuk’s, warm under the blanket. In the candlelight, the bruises over Sanghyuk’s face looked brown, almost black. Wonshik noted the little stitch in Sanghyuk’s lip, the way the bruises on his face seemed to radiate out from his cheekbone.  
  
Wonshik was loathe to wake him— he looked so young like this, hurt and sleeping. But he needed to hear Sanghyuk’s voice. “Kiddo,” Wonshik murmured, shaking him gently. “Hey, kid.”  
  
Sanghyuk stirred, making a little snuffling noise as he did so. He blinked his eyes open a bit, and when he saw Wonshik, he smiled, softly, unguarded. Wonshik felt something in him ease at the sight of it.  
  
“Wonshik,” Sanghyuk rasped. “Hey.” He made to move, to sit up, and Wonshik gently touched his shoulder, the left one, to indicate he should stay laying down, and Sanghyuk sank back into the mattress with an exhale. “What time is it?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Wonshik said softly. “But I think you only just dozed off— I just wanted to pop in and make sure you were alright.”  
  
Sanghyuk— Wonshik could see what Jaehwan had meant, when he’d said Sanghyuk was a bit off kilter. Sanghyuk was still smiling gently, eyes half closed, and his gaze was soft, eyes not really fully focused. Wonshik didn’t think he should be making any decisions, in this state.  
  
“I’m okay, Wonshik,” Sanghyuk murmured, and he squeezed Wonshik’s hand through the blanket.  
  
Wonshik brushed a stray lock of hair off Sanghyuk’s forehead, palm skating over his warm skin gently. “You quit hunting,” Wonshik said softly. “Are you really okay?”  
  
Sanghyuk blinked, and it took a little extra time for his eyelids to rise again when he did. “I think it was the best choice,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to die like that.”  
  
“It must have really shaken you,” Wonshik said softly, and Sanghyuk looked away, not meeting his eyes. “I never thought you’d quit hunting.” He paused, then added in a murmur, “But then, I’d never have thought Hakyeon would quit hunting either.”  
  
“Things happen,” Sanghyuk whispered. He looked at Wonshik again, lips curving in a mockery of a smile. “I love him. I didn’t want to, but I do. I want to spend what time I have left with him, and with you and the others.”   
  
Wonshik swallowed, throat feeling a bit thick. “I can’t lecture you,” he murmured. “I know we don’t choose these things— and God knows I tried to stop loving Hongbin, after he was turned, I tried so hard, and even though he was dead, I couldn’t. So I died for him. I am not, and have never been, the greatest model of behaviour for this.” Sanghyuk’s smile turned a little more genuine, and it warmed Wonshik. He thought of Jaehwan— he wasn’t ideal. He never was. But Wonshik loved him too. Not in the same way, but he did. He loved Jaehwan as a friend, as a maker, knew Jaehwan had capacity to be cruel and obnoxious but he sunk into people’s cracks all the same. And he was different now, so much different than he’d been.   
  
His love for Sanghyuk had changed him, hopefully all the way to his core.   
  
“Hakyeon’s going to flip,” Sanghyuk muttered. His eyes fluttered shut; the energy seemed to be leaving him.  
  
Wonshik chuckled a little. “Maybe,” he said. “But maybe not. He should be able to understand, since he did something similar.”  
  
“Me and Jaehwan aren’t Hakyeon and Taekwoon,” Sanghyuk said tiredly. “I think we need to stop trying to be. We’re— us. And I just want it to be enough.”  
  
Wonshik’s hand still rested gently at the crown of Sanghyuk’s head, and he swiped his thumb gently over Sanghyuk’s hairline. He didn’t fully understand what Sanghyuk meant. “You’re enough, kiddo,” he said, a little bemused.  
  
Sanghyuk didn’t reply to that, but he sighed, deeply, and Wonshik thought that signified the end of that.  
  
——  
  
Hongbin stood juxtaposed to Jaehwan, each of them standing on either side of the hallway entrance, like sentries. There was nothing to listen for, the charms muffled all sound that might have filtered out of the hallway, including Sanghyuk’s heartbeat.  
  
Jaehwan was staring into the darkness of the hall anyway, the strangest expression on his face. He looked almost haunted. Hongbin, in turn, was watching him, taking in the lines of his face, the curve of his shoulders, and then it flashed through him in a sudden realization.  
  
He was behaving as if Sanghyuk was dying, rather than recovering.   
  
“Jaehwan,” Hongbin murmured, “what aren’t you saying?”  
  
Jaehwan did not reply, did not move nor give any indication that he’d heard. And Hongbin, by now, knew better than to push him.  
  
——  
  
Sometimes Ilhoon found it amazing, how everything could be falling apart around their ears, and yet the sun always rose, and with it the birds began to chirp, the soft sound of cars driving by grew more frequent. Life would go on. It always would.   
  
Ilhoon watched as his bedroom lightened, the sunlight creeping in through the blinds. He reached out, letting his hand fall off the edge of the bed so his fingertips could trail through a thin beam of sunlight, disturbing it.  
  
Beside him, Hyunsik shifted, rolling over so he could wrap his arm around Ilhoon’s middle. It took effort, but Ilhoon determinately ignored how easy it was, how much extra space they had in the bed now.   
  
It was so quiet. “Do you think we’re going to lose Sanghyuk too?” Hyunsik whispered. There was a slight shake in his voice.  
  
Ilhoon let his hand drop away from the sunlight. “I don’t know,” he whispered.  
  
——  
  
Pain. Sanghyuk was in pain.   
  
He winced, gasping a little as he inhaled. His head was pounding, and his wrist was aching.   
  
“Awake?” Jaehwan whispered, and Sanghyuk opened his eyes. Jaehwan was laying beside him in bed, propped up on his elbow, watching Sanghyuk quietly.  
  
“I guess I am now,” Sanghyuk replied huskily, and his mouth felt unpleasantly dry. He shifted and found himself wincing again. “I think my meds have worn off.”  
  
“Probably,” Jaehwan murmured. He touched Sanghyuk’s waist gently, as if indicating that he should be still. “You slept all through the day.”  
  
It was odd, being lucid and trying to piece back through the fog. “Wonshik came to see me?” he asked, wanting to be sure he was remembering correctly.  
  
“He did,” Jaehwan said. “He was concerned that you’d quit hunting.” There was something odd in his voice, and his eyes roved slowly over Sanghyuk’s face, sharply focused.  
  
“He’ll adjust,” Sanghyuk whispered, and hoped it was true. He wanted this to fit so badly. “Has Hakyeon been by?” Sanghyuk knew he wasn’t going to be able to go long without having to explain this, at least in part, to Hakyeon.  
  
“He’s coming by tonight— soon,” Jaehwan replied. His mouth twisted in displeasure, and it made Sanghyuk smile, despite his pain. “I have food for you, as you cannot take your medicine without first eating. And I do believe you will want to be properly medicated to deal with Hakyeon.”  
  
“Yes,” Sanghyuk said. “That seems like a good idea.”  
  
Jaehwan helped Sanghyuk sit up and propped him against the headboard with several pillows. His touch was almost impersonal, gentle but brief. He pulled away from Sanghyuk as if he’d been burned, and Sanghyuk felt himself frowning, confused. He remembered, suddenly, that when he’d awoken, Jaehwan had been beside him, but not touching him, which was— odd, to say the least.   
  
Jaehwan went to the nightstand, where a meticulously put together peanut butter and jelly sandwich sat beside a cup of water. He carefully placed the plate and its contents on Sanghyuk’s lap, waited silently as Sanghyuk ate half of the sandwich before handing him the glass of water and several pills. Sanghyuk said nothing as this process happened. Chewing was a bit of a sore thing, for starters, but also Jaehwan being so— unsettled, off, was in turn making him a little edgy. He’d be glad for the medication’s sedation effects.  
  
Once the pills were downed, and the sandwich gone, Jaehwan whisked the plate away. In turn he helped Sanghyuk stand, dress, but again, his touches were very brief, and almost reluctant.   
  
The pain was already dulling. “Are you angry at me?” Sanghyuk asked, as Jaehwan fiddled gently with the gauze over Sanghyuk’s right hand; an edge had come untucked while Sanghyuk dressed.  
  
Jaehwan’s hands stilled, and he looked up at Sanghyuk through his lashes. “No,” he murmured. “I’m not angry at you, love.”  
  
 _Then what is it_ , Sanghyuk wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure there even was anything, wasn’t sure if he was seeing shadows where there were none. He felt so emotionally shaky; so much had happened in so little time, and he felt fragile, like blown glass.   
  
Sanghyuk swallowed down the lump rising in his throat. His ankle was throbbing, and favoring the uninjured one was in turn making it sore. The stitch tugged in his lip every time he spoke, and already the medication was making him feel a bit foggy, pulling his mind elsewhere.  
  
“You just seem mad,” he murmured finally.  
  
Jaehwan looked away, down at his hands, and finished securing the errant end of the gauze back in place. “I’m not.”  
  
Sanghyuk let himself lean forward, let his head droop so his forehead was resting on Jaehwan’s shoulder, narrow and bony. Jaehwan did not move away, but neither did he embrace Sanghyuk, his hands limp at his sides.  
  
“I thought you’d be happy,” Sanghyuk said, a little thickly.   
  
Jaehwan sighed. “I am glad you’re safe, I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly.   
  
Somehow, Sanghyuk knew that wasn’t the same thing. He turned his face so his mouth brushed against the skin of Jaehwan’s neck, lips slightly parted. Jaehwan still didn’t embrace him, but Sanghyuk felt some of the tenseness leave him, and he tilted his head, just slightly, to give Sanghyuk more access as Sanghyuk began peppering soft kisses over his skin.  
  
Sanghyuk nuzzled against the tender place where Jaehwan’s pulse point would be, were he living. He wasn’t sure what made him say it, perhaps it was a memory of something Wonshik or Hakyeon had said before, but he found himself whispering, “After I’ve turned, will you let me bite you?”   
  
Jaehwan stiffened, a shudder running through him. “Love,” Jaehwan murmured, hands finally coming up so he could rest his fingertips on Sanghyuk’s chest, pushing slightly, like he wanted Sanghyuk to step back.   
  
Sanghyuk might have pushed the point, but the wards of the house rippled, even Sanghyuk could feel it. So he raised his head, refusing to meet Jaehwan’s eyes. “Help me to the living room?” he asked, and he didn’t have to see Jaehwan’s face to sense his relief.   
  
Jaehwan picked him up, gentle, careful, and before Sanghyuk could blink they were in the living room. He’d barely felt the movement, and Jaehwan set him down softly in the corner of the couch, so he could lean up against the arm and back cozily.   
  
“Thank you,” Sanghyuk said softly, touching Jaehwan’s wrist as Jaehwan pulled away.   
  
Jaehwan stuttered, eyes skittering over Sanghyuk’s, but then the front door opened, and ultimately Jaehwan pulled away in favor of turning and opening his arms. “Brother,” Jaehwan said as Taekwoon stepped into the room closely followed by Hakyeon. “Glad you two could come at such short notice.”   
  
The bravado in Jaehwan’s voice seemed more stark than usual, but nonetheless Taekwoon still squinted at him, while Hakyeon paid him no notice because he’d stopped dead when he caught sight of Sanghyuk, a horrible expression on his face.  
  
Sanghyuk kept forgetting how he must look. “I’m alright, Hakyeon,” he said, trying to sound comforting.   
  
Hakyeon’s mouth twisted, and he stepped forward, shuffling past Jaehwan so he could sit beside Sanghyuk on the couch. His movements were slow, and the whole while his gaze didn’t stray from Sanghyuk’s face.   
  
“Wonshik said you— you got pretty banged up, but were alright— I don’t know what I expected,” Hakyeon murmured, voice slightly raspy. “Oh, Sanghyuk.”  
  
Sanghyuk tried to smile reassuringly, but could only do so much before the stitch in his lip pulled uncomfortably. “I really am alright,” he said. “It’s— I’m sore, but nothing is _broken_ , you know, it’s just fractures and strains.”  
  
Jaehwan let out a low noise, somewhere between a hiss and a growl, and then he prowled right out of the room, down the darkened hall. The sound sent Sanghyuk’s wards jangling.   
  
The three of them stared after him for a moment before Sanghyuk said softly, “He’s been— unhappy.” This time when he smiled at Hakyeon, it was weak and wavery. He didn’t like Jaehwan being unhappy, didn’t like the thought that Jaehwan was unhappy with him, for whatever reason. Maybe most days he’d be able to push through it, roll his eyes, but he just felt too battered, inside and out, to cope.  
  
He wished he knew what was going on.  
  
“Jaehwan is distressed seeing you this way,” Taekwoon murmured, his soft voice soothing. “It is hard for us, it was hard for me. Vampires heal, immediately, but with humans, the damage lasts longer. It wouldn’t surprise me if he saw your injuries as a failure on himself, for not protecting you, for not saving you.”  
  
Sanghyuk swallowed. “I don’t see it that way,” he said, and thought to himself that— it made sense, but he couldn’t help feel that that wasn’t quite it.   
  
“Of course, it is no one’s fault but that vampire’s,” Hakyeon said, and Sanghyuk didn’t show it, but he was surprised. “I’m just glad you’re— you’re not alright, you’re not, but you’re alive, and you’ll heal.”   
  
“I will,” Sanghyuk said, and he actually believed it. “I’m in good hands, here.”  
  
“You’ve moved in,” Hakyeon said, and in the background, Taekwoon wandered over to hover near the couch with them. “Wonshik told me you were moving in because— you quit hunting?” Sanghyuk nodded, and Hakyeon’s brow hitched. “Sanghyuk.”  
  
“It’s my choice, Hakyeon,” Sanghyuk said, a reminder, a warning.   
  
“Well, yes, but—” Hakyeon made a gesture, fast, vampire fast, and Sanghyuk couldn’t catch it. “What will you do?”   
  
Sanghyuk nibbled at his stitch. He wasn’t ready to confess all of his decisions, not yet, not until he and Jaehwan had hashed out the finer details— like the who and the when and— and if Jaehwan was even willing. Sanghyuk assumed he would be, considering a few days prior he himself had brought it up, but maybe things had changed. Regardless, they needed to speak about it first before they had to deal with Hakyeon, or the others, injecting their opinions.  
  
“I’m not sure,” he said, and he could sense Hakyeon’s displeasure. “I—”  
  
Jaehwan was back in the room, flopping down onto his overstuffed leather armchair. “I rather thought my children would want to see their aunt and uncle,” he said airily, and Sanghyuk looked to the hallway to see Wonshik and Hongbin coming in, at a human pace.   
  
“Aunt Hakyeon,” Wonshik said, faux-musingly, and then grinned when Hakyeon glared.  
  
“Don’t you dare,” Hakyeon said, and Wonshik came and sat on the other side of him, flopping down with the same sort of nonchalance Jaehwan had.  
  
Sanghyuk was looking at Jaehwan, trying to piece together the sudden switch in moods. “Jaehwan,” he whispered, barely audible, almost just mouthing it, and Jaehwan looked to him. He still had that storm in his eyes.   
  
“You alright, kiddo?” Wonshik asked, leaning forward so he could see Sanghyuk around Hakyeon.   
  
Sanghyuk turned, met his eyes, smiled slightly. “Yeah, I’m alright.”   
  
“Sanghyuk was telling me— about his plans, for now that he’s quit hunting,” Hakyeon said, a little sharply.   
  
“He was mothering me, is what he was doing,” Sanghyuk said, and he could feel Jaehwan’s eyes on him still, so heavy it was almost like a touch.  
  
Hakyeon inhaled, puffing himself up, while Hongbin snickered. “I was not.”  
  
“You _were_ ,” Sanghyuk said. “You always do.”  
  
“Someone has to,” Hakyeon grumbled, sniffing. “And you didn’t answer me.”  
  
Hakyeon was like a dog with a bone. “I did answer you, I don’t know,” Sanghyuk lied. “For now I just want to rest and heal, Hakyeon, can I do that?”  
  
Hakyeon stared at him levelly, before his gaze flickered beyond Sanghyuk, to Jaehwan. Sanghyuk wasn’t going to look at Jaehwan, not when he could still sense Jaehwan’s gaze, watching him, in a way he didn’t quite do usually.   
  
Finally, Hakyeon looked back at Sanghyuk, and he seemed like he had many things to say, but he swallowed them down. “Of course,” he said. To Sanghyuk’s surprise, Hakyeon took his hand, his uninjured left one. “Sanghyuk— I love you. I know I nag at you, but in the end, I just want you to be happy.”   
  
Sanghyuk gently squeezed Hakyeon’s hand in return. “I know,” he murmured, “but you need to start trusting my judgement.” He looked away from Hakyeon, gaze skittering over Wonshik and Hongbin in turn.   
  
Hakyeon had a hitch in his brow, expression a little wretched. Wonshik and Hongbin glanced at one another, in a way Sanghyuk wasn’t sure he liked. Then Wonshik was touching Hakyeon’s shoulder and murmuring, “Yeah, kiddo. We do.”  
  
Hakyeon looked down at their intertwined hands before gently pulling away. He glanced at Wonshik, who stared at him, eyes solemn. Hakyeon sighed. “Yeah,” he echoed tiredly, “we do. I do.”  
  
Sanghyuk sighed, softly, feeling relieved and yet more tense all at the same time. “Thank you.”  
  
“I think,” Taekwoon said softly from somewhere off behind Sanghyuk, “that perhaps, we should go. We only meant to stop by briefly, and Sanghyuk seems weary.”  
  
It took a moment for Hakyeon to respond. He looked at Sanghyuk with a torn expression, but at a gentle nudge from Wonshik, he stood, silently.   
  
“Rest well, Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon murmured, gently running his hand over Sanghyuk’s hair. “I’ll be back in a few days to see how you’re doing.”  
  
“I’ll be here,” Sanghyuk said, smiling gently.  
  
“Yes,” Hakyeon said, hand dropping away. “I suppose you will.”  
  
——  
  
They were in a nice part of town, with bright street lamps and slim alleyways kept clear of debris. Dawn was only a few hours off, not a good time to hunt, but they would make do.  
  
“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said softly, and Hakyeon didn’t turn to look at him. He was standing just inside an alleyway, Taekwoon further back in darkness. There was a heartbeat, blocks away, and Hakyeon wanted to focus on it, but he found himself watching a moth fluttering around the nearest lamp.  
  
“Sanghyuk’s turning,” Hakyeon said, watching the moth fly against the light, unbearably bright to his sensitive eyes. “It’s the only reason he’d quit hunting, he can’t do anything else, it’s not in him. He’s going to turn. He’s going to let Jaehwan kill him.”  
  
Taekwoon was silent for a long time, and the heartbeat grew louder. “Perhaps,” he finally whispered.   
  
Hakyeon didn’t know how he felt about that, didn’t know how he had any right to feel about it. Sanghyuk would suit it, would suit vampirism, and it left a bad taste in Hakyeon’s mouth to think it, but it was true. He was far more pragmatic about things like— blood, killing, the pursuit of one’s wants in the face of moral instability. He just wasn’t sure he would suit Jaehwan, in the end. If he survived.   
  
A long pause, Hakyeon could hear footsteps. “What will you do?” Taekwoon murmured, the sound barely there.  
  
Hakyeon’s fangs slipped out, the tips pricking at his bottom lip. “Watch him die,” he whispered, and then slipped forward, grabbed the passing human by the forearm, and dragged him into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Hongbin would always say he wasn’t sure he remembered. Sometimes things were crystal and sometimes they were fuzzy or gone, utterly. He preferred the second.  
  
It had been underground, a dank room full of thick pipes, boilers, the basement of some functioning building. He screamed, screamed until he was hoarse, but no one had ever come, and the spell on the place had kept him too weak, hands tied behind his back. No room to maneuver, his legs curled up to his chest in the dog crate they’d stuffed him in.   
  
Somewhere, Hongbin had once read that the brain could not remember the sensation of past pain. It could remember the memory of the incidence, that there had _been_ pain, but it could not conjure up echoes of the sensation.   
  
Perhaps it was true. Perhaps it was just that he was willfully trying to make it all fuzzy, wanted to forget. The intensity of the pain, the escalation of it— he did remember wondering why he could feel such a level of agony, why the human brain would be wired to register it. Surely it would be merciful, to reach a point where it just stopped, where the nerves simply shut off.  
  
They’d undergone so much training, so much mental preparation for the possibility of death by vampire, for pain, but nothing could have prepared him for the literal breaking of his body. He’d thought— but he’d been wrong, his snarls of, _You’ll have to kill me_ , had melted into broken sobs of, _Please kill me, please, please_ —  
  
Maybe he should have been proud. He’d lasted longer than he thought he would have, in retrospect. But he broke, in the end, just as his body had.  
  
“Tell us,” one of them had crooned, one hand holding onto Hongbin’s, the other holding his forearm, fingers digging in. He was _twisting_ , and Hongbin could feel the strain on his elbow joint, but most of it was centered on his wrist, far more delicate. “Don’t you want your lover to know what happened to you? Wouldn’t you rather your body isn’t in pieces when he sees it?”  
  
Hongbin’s lip was bloody where he was biting into it, trying to hold in the sounds as the small bones in his wrist fractured as the vampire twisted, slow.  
  
“Enough of this,” another vampire had said, and there’d been a blur of motion, the vampire kicking out, and an awful crack as Hongbin’s leg had snapped, clean. _It was never clean_.  
  
No, he couldn’t remember the pain, but he remembered the coldness of the concrete as he’d arched on it. And it was still too much.  
  
“Hongbin?”  
  
Hongbin blinked, refocusing with a slight jolt. He had toothpaste at the corner of his mouth, the brush held forgotten in his hand. With slow deliberation, he put the toothbrush back in their shared cup.  
  
Wonshik came up behind him, wrapped his arms around Hongbin’s middle and put his chin on Hongbin’s shoulder, so they were both looking into the bathroom mirror. “What were you thinking about?”  
  
Wonshik’s hair had gotten long, the fringe fanning over his eyes. His lips were slightly pale in death.   
  
At his side, Hongbin flexed his hand, the unbroken fingers, wrist. “I was thinking that no matter what we may have gone though, I’m glad to be here with you.”  
  
——  
  
This time, when Sanghyuk woke up, Jaehwan wasn’t there.  
  
Sanghyuk took stock of himself. He was marginally less sore than yesterday, which was progress he was pleased to be making. He looked to the nightstand, where again, a covered peanut butter and jelly sandwich sat beside a glass of water, two pills, and a little bell with runes etched into the sides.  
  
They weren’t that far out of reach, but it still took some time to shift over, to sit up against the headboard, and his shoulder and wrist twinged uncomfortably as he moved. Since he didn’t have much of an appetite currently, he only ate two bites of the sandwich before reaching for the pills. His hand hovered over the capsules before he eventually decided to only take one; he was tired of feeling so drugged.   
  
With that done, he wondered what now. They’d left his crutch near the bed, so theoretically, he could wander about, but he still didn’t feel up to doing so without some help. And he didn’t want to stay here, not without Jaehwan. The bed was cold without him, and Sanghyuk was beginning to feel uneasy in regards to— them.   
  
Jaehwan was refusing to engage in any conversation with him that extended beyond the surface.   
  
Sanghyuk eyed the bell on the nightstand. It hadn’t been there last night, which meant Jaehwan had left it there specifically for Sanghyuk to find, and theoretically, use.  
  
So he reached over, grabbed the bell by its smooth wooden handle, and gave it a good shake. It gave off a pleasant chime, not particularly loud, and yet somehow it resonated so strongly Sanghyuk could feel the tremble in his bones, and he winced and put a hand to his broken ribs.   
  
It took mere seconds but then Wonshik was there, pushing the door to the bedroom open and then poking his head in. Sanghyuk was at once happy and disappointed to see him.  
  
“What’s up, kiddo?” Wonshik asked, coming fully into the room.   
  
Sanghyuk, very carefully, put the bell down. “I was wondering where Jaehwan was.”  
  
“Kyungsoo called, so he went out to go see what he wanted,” Wonshik replied. His eyes were twinkling. “He should be back soon.”  
  
The way Wonshik was looking at him made Sanghyuk feel a bit disgruntled, color coming to his cheeks. “I’d like to hang out in the library while I wait for my prince charming to return, if you wouldn’t mind helping me,” Sanghyuk said a bit tersely, and Wonshik snorted.  
  
“Does that make you a princess?” Wonshik asked, and were Sanghyuk not so sore, he might have smacked him. As it was he let Wonshik scoop him up, graceful but not as smoothly as he was used to Jaehwan doing. He felt ridiculous, for some reason, but the feeling did not have a chance to linger because in a blink they were in the library, and Wonshik was setting him down on the sofa.  
  
“It’s cold in here,” Sanghyuk said piteously, and Wonshik shot him a look but went over to the fireplace, put two logs in, and then proceeded to spend a few minutes too long struggling to get them properly lit. Once the fire was crackling merrily Wonshik stood up and dusted his hands off on his basketball shorts. “Thank you, oh valiant knight.”  
  
“I’ll get you some books too,” Wonshik said quietly, and Sanghyuk softened, watching Wonshik flicker about and pile five books on the coffee table.  
  
“Sometimes you make it hard to tease you,” Sanghyuk said fondly. “But I will always persevere.”  
  
“You’re such a brat,” Wonshik said, scrunching up his face in mock displeasure before he grinned. He reached out, touched a gentle fingertip to Sanghyuk’s bruised cheekbone. “But I’m glad you’re here,” he said, voice growing solemn.  
  
Sanghyuk swallowed, feeling his throat tighten. “Here as in, alive, or here as in, _here_ here?”   
  
“Both, I suppose,” Wonshik said softly. “You’re like family, you know.” He paused. “I think soon, you will actually be family.”   
  
A frisson of shock ran through Sanghyuk. He looked away from Wonshik, at the fire. Finally, he whispered, “Am I that obvious?”  
  
“You’re not,” Wonshik said, voice lowering so his rasp became more pronounced. “But Jaehwan is.”  
  
Sanghyuk heaved a heavy sigh. Yes. Jaehwan always was obvious.   
  
“We haven’t spoken at length about it,” Sanghyuk said quietly. “I’ve just— let him know I want to.”  
  
“He’ll agree, you know he will,” Wonshik said, and something in Sanghyuk eased at the reassurance, like he was a child. “But Sanghyuk— are you sure? It’s— a lot of being a vampire isn’t fun. You know what it means, the things you’ll have to do, what you’ll become.”  
  
Sanghyuk shook his head, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Maybe something’s gone wrong in me, but— I’m not going to overthink this. There’s no _point_ to it. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to leave Jaehwan behind. I want to be with him, and you, I want to share this life you’ve all built for yourselves. The literal only way I can do that is if I turn too. I’m the only one left, and it’s already been far too long since it’s been so.”  
  
Wonshik stared at him levelly. “If you can keep that mentality up,” he murmured, “I suppose you’ll do just fine.”  
  
 _Yes_ , Sanghyuk thought, the fingers of his left hand curling into a fist atop his thigh, _let it be enough, please_.   
  
“Thank you,” Sanghyuk whispered, grateful for so many things, Wonshik’s love, friendship, acceptance.   
  
Wonshik shook his head. “Mushy stuff,” he said gruffly as he turned away. “I’ll let you get to reading.”  
  
Before he could leave, Sanghyuk called out to him. “Wonshik, you know it isn’t just Jaehwan, right? You know I love you too?”  
  
Wonshik looked back, and appeared to swallowed thickly. “Yeah, kiddo,” he murmured. “I know.”  
  
He left, not quite shutting the door fully behind him, and Sanghyuk sat back into the plushness of the couch, thoughts whirling.   
  
Maybe he should think about this more— he knew Hakyeon had agonized over the topic for months, had nearly been torn apart making the decision. But Hakyeon had, in many ways, put down roots in who he had been. Sanghyuk had never felt his identity was tied to himself as a hunter, or even as a human.  
  
“I’ve changed,” he whispered to the fire. He’d been soft when he’d been taken under by HQ, thought being a hunter sounded exciting, had been pursuing a shining image rather than a set of moral standards. He’d hated vampires the way an ordinary human had, out of fear, rather than with the burning passion Hakyeon had, or Wonshik, or Hongbin. The seething, fiery hatred.   
  
He’d never hated vampires. He’d disliked them, pitied them, killed them in a kill-or-be-killed mentality. It was always just logistics. Shoot first. And he’d been good at it. But now, the thought of being a vampire didn’t turn his stomach the way it should have.   
  
Part of it was him, but part of it was that he had watched Hakyeon and Wonshik turn, had stood by them in the following years, and watched as very little about them changed. There was nothing about them to despise, they derived no joy from killing, they mourned their victims. Sanghyuk knew other people would probably see it differently, would say the intent didn’t matter: they were still killers.   
  
And they were. But so was Sanghyuk. As a human, he killed vampires to survive. And as a vampire, he would kill humans to survive. It was survival in different ways, but it was still a necessity. He would not revel in it any more than Hakyeon or Wonshik did. It was still the only thing that gave him pause, but he’d have to swallow it, if he wanted to turn.   
  
Sanghyuk looked away from the fire at last. The brightness of the flames left spots in his vision as he gazed over the rest of the darkened room. He wished— he wished things could have been different. In so many ways.   
  
He needed to talk to everyone about this. First Jaehwan, then Hakyeon and Wonshik, and then Ilhoon and Hyunsik. In a sudden rush, Sanghyuk felt the loss of Sungjae again, sharp and bitter. He would never know, never know what Sanghyuk had been hiding, would never know about Jaehwan, would never meet him. He died thinking his dearest friends would continue hunting, never knowing what any of them, not Sanghyuk nor Ilhoon, had churning just under the surface. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.   
  
If Sanghyuk turned, lived through turning, Sungjae would be his one regret.   
  
Sanghyuk spent so long lost in his thoughts that before he could even touch the books Wonshik had laid out for him, the wards of the house were rippling. He looked to the cracked doorway, and waited.  
  
Sure enough, it didn’t take long for the door to swing open, and Jaehwan was standing in the frame. He froze, when he saw Sanghyuk staring. The firelight made his features look ruddy, flushed.   
  
“I thought you might have fallen back asleep,” Jaehwan said softly.  
  
“I haven’t,” Sanghyuk said, stating the obvious. He winced, inwardly, at how awkward they felt, wondered why. “What did Kyungsoo want?”  
  
Jaehwan didn’t step further into the room, opting to brace his hands against the doorframe on either side of him. “To tell me he’d had to dispose of that vampire’s corpse. He’d been trying to use its remains to determine who it was, why it did what it did, but the venture was fruitless, and the etchings on its chest sped up the rotting process. Nothing more could be gained, so he disposed of it.”  
  
Sanghyuk felt a sick churning in his stomach. “So we’ll never know?”   
  
Jaehwan’s hands trailed down over the wood, dropping to his sides momentarily before he crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, love.”  
  
Sanghyuk shook his head sharply, lips pressing together. Maybe there was nothing else to know. It had been a vampire that hated hunters. It just felt so anticlimactic, and he wanted a reason, for why Sungjae had to die. A reason aside from the basics that he’d been a hunter, in the wrong place at the wrong time. He deserved more purpose than that, than for his twenty years of existence to have been snuffed out by chance.   
  
The silence stretched on, and Jaehwan surprised Sanghyuk by stepping back, turning to leave, avoiding Sanghyuk’s eyes as if he wanted to go unnoticed.   
  
“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said, his own voice jarring. “I think— can we talk, please?”  
  
Jaehwan stilled, half turned, facing away from Sanghyuk. As Sanghyuk watched, Jaehwan’s hands curled into fists for a moment before he turned, smiling thinly. “Of course, love,” he said, tone light.   
  
“Could you—” Sanghyuk broke off, wetting his lips nervously. “Could you come in and shut the door, please?”  
  
Jaehwan stared at him, for a few beats, and he looked almost— frightened. But then he was stepping towards Sanghyuk, shutting the library door softly behind him. Then he stood there, arms crossed, and waited.   
  
Sanghyuk opened his mouth, then shut it again. His head was pounding, he couldn’t think, and Jaehwan’s skittishness was in turn making him feel anxious and wrong-footed.  
  
Finally he just whispered, “Tell me what’s wrong, please.”  
  
Jaehwan twitched, moving his arms so his hands were down by his sides once more. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, a little too fast, a little too sharp.  
  
It threw Sanghyuk back, and he was surprised by his own emotional reaction, the fear, the plummeting of his stomach. “We’re not doing this again,” he said, maybe a little harsher than he’d meant to.   
  
He could almost see the light switch on, the realization dawning over Jaehwan. “No,” Jaehwan said, “no, you can’t think I— no.”  
  
“Then what is it?” Sanghyuk asked, leaning forward in lieu of standing. “Taekwoon said you were probably mad at yourself, and shaken over the reminder of my mortality. But I know— we’ve both been living with my oncoming death hanging over us. The attack wasn’t a surprise.”  
  
Jaehwan shook his head, his mouth twisting, expression wretched. He walked over, until he was standing above Sanghyuk, before sinking down and sitting facing Sanghyuk, on the edge of the old coffee table, their knees knocking against one another. “I know we agreed on honesty, on— on me not hiding anymore, not even when it hurts,” he whispered, “but being open, always, is so hard.”  
  
Sanghyuk swallowed against the lump in his throat, heart aching at how lost Jaehwan sounded, the pain in his eyes. “Jaehwan,” he murmured, “please.”  
  
Jaehwan leaned forward, reaching out and cupping Sanghyuk’s face in his hands, palms warm and soft and gentle. “I love you,” he said, gazing into Sanghyuk’s eyes.   
  
“I know,” Sanghyuk replied, knowing his bemusement shone through in his voice. He tilted his head, resting his uninjured cheek more heavily into Jaehwan’s palm.   
  
Jaehwan looked as if someone was pressing silver to his skin. “You said you loved me too.”  
  
Sanghyuk looked away, reaching up and taking Jaehwan’s right hand in his left one, holding it still as he turned his face, lips brushing Jaehwan’s palm. He had said it, finally, the words that had been sitting at his core for so long. Longer than he’d maybe even realized. And it had taken so much for them to come to the surface, for Sanghyuk to see, and now he found it was still difficult to grasp it all. He understood Jaehwan’s rawness now, how much he’d had to scrape himself open, to come clean. “I did,” Sanghyuk murmured huskily. “I did say it.”  
  
“And do you still?” Jaehwan whispered, voice thick, and Sanghyuk blinked at him. “Love me.”  
  
Sanghyuk let go of Jaehwan’s hand, pulling back, and Jaehwan let both his hands drop so they were resting in his own lap. “What?” Sanghyuk asked. He knew he was frowning. “Yes. I do. I love you.” Jaehwan’s chest hitched, and his lips parted on a slight inhale. It was like he’d been struck. Things were beginning to make sense. “Did you think I was lying?”  
  
“No,” Jaehwan gasped, “no, it’s just— you have a concussion. You have a concussion and you almost died, and you’re all drugged up and— and suddenly you love me, you love me and want to turn.”   
  
Sanghyuk had a sick feeling in his stomach. “Oh, Jaehwan,” he whispered, and Jaehwan flinched back. “It’s— I know it seems sudden but it’s not—”  
  
“Isn’t it?” Jaehwan cut him off, sharp, almost angry. Sanghyuk flinched in turn and reached out, but then Jaehwan was gone, standing several feet away, backlit by the fireplace. “Don’t.”  
  
“I’m not going to take it back,” Sanghyuk said, his owl eyes tattoo struggling to bring Jaehwan’s face into focus. “I’ve loved you since before the attack— well before. I realized it when you sang for me, but I think the feelings have been with me for a long time. I— did you really think I would have touched you then, held you, kissed you, if I hadn’t thought I could give you something back? I just— I was afraid, Jaehwan, so I didn’t tell you.”  
  
Jaehwan remained silent, still, for a beat, then he turned away from Sanghyuk, looking into the fireplace. “Afraid of what?” he whispered, voice barely audible above the crackling of the wood burning.  
  
“Afraid of hurting you even worse,” Sanghyuk said. “Afraid of you hurting me. You’re not easy to love, you know, you’re difficult, and you lash out a lot, and I— I was afraid of letting you have that power over me.” He paused, and Jaehwan did not seek to fill the silence, was as quiet and motionless as a statue. “It was the same for you, wasn’t it? You were afraid of being hurt.”  
  
It took time for the answer to come. “Yes,” Jaehwan whispered, voice barely a rasp.  
  
“You’ve hurt me a lot, Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk murmured. “And that was — well, I thought it was — before I loved you. I knew you’d be able to ruin me, if I gave up that last little defense I had, if you chose to. I’d never recover.”  
  
Jaehwan bowed his head. “I never meant to hurt you like that.”  
  
“I know,” Sanghyuk said gently. “I know. But you did. Can you blame me, for being wary?”  
  
Jaehwan let out a little sigh. “No,” he said. “I cannot, but love, nothing has changed.”  
  
Sanghyuk shook his head a little, in disbelief, in wonder, but Jaehwan couldn’t see it. “So much has changed,” he said, voice thick with sincerity, with the desire to make Jaehwan see, see that he wasn’t— wasn’t high on adrenaline, delirious with pain or medication. That he _meant_ this. “You’ve changed. You’re still changing. And I— yes, I almost died, Jaehwan, but if anything, it drove home what I already knew.” He shifted, sitting forward, wishing he could stand up and go to Jaehwan, make him look at him, but all he could see was Jaehwan’s back, shoulders tense, posture rigid. “You were all I could think of, when that vampire was on top of me, how much I wanted to see you again, how much I didn’t want to die— but because of you, because of what it would do to you. And I can’t step back from that. All we can do is go forward.”  
  
“Forward,” Jaehwan echoed softly, and finally he turned so he could look at Sanghyuk, though Sanghyuk could still not make out his face, the fire roaring orange and red behind him. “Forward into death?”  
  
He still didn’t believe him. Sanghyuk searched the darkness, could make out just the slight glint of Jaehwan’s eyes. “I love you,” Sanghyuk said, the intensity of the words as they left him making him shiver. “I do, Jaehwan. Maybe I should have picked a better time to say it— but I had just gone through an ordeal where I thought I was going to _die_ without you knowing, and that was more horrific than anything.”  
  
For a long moment, everything but the flames were silent, still, but then Jaehwan finally moved, stepping forward once more. As he did so, he turned enough that the firelight could catch on his features, and he looked like he was swallowing back tears. He sat beside Sanghyuk on the couch, eyes never leaving Sanghyuk’s, and his movements were slow, as if he might spook at any moment and flee again.   
  
“Say it again,” Jaehwan said, voice soft and trembling. His eyes felt like they were stripping Sanghyuk bare.  
  
Sanghyuk inhaled, feeling shaky himself. He didn’t have to ask what Jaehwan meant. “I love you,” he repeated, and it was easier, this time.   
  
Jaehwan just stared at him, still afraid, still sad. “You want to turn?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You’re sure of it.” Jaehwan was trembling.  
  
Sanghyuk held his hands out, palms up, to show he was hiding nothing. “Yes. If you still want me to,” Sanghyuk said honestly, and then paused. “Actually, I think I’ll still do it even if you don’t want me to.”  
  
Jaehwan laughed, suddenly, but it was broken. “I do, I want you to,” he said, face twisting, and Sanghyuk could see the tears welling in his eyes. “I’m just afraid you don’t actually want it.”  
  
Sanghyuk stared at Jaehwan, eyes travelling over his features, the soft mouth, the hitch in his brow. The raw pain in his eyes. He didn’t have the words to truly put all his thoughts into form, to convey the depths of his feelings. They weren’t a fairy tale romance, this wasn’t going to end in castles, in sunshine and flowers, in lazy mornings and soft sheets. And Jaehwan wasn’t a prince, wasn’t a gentleman, wasn’t perfect. He was a killer, was sharp and ruthless, but Sanghyuk wasn’t a princess, and he had edges of his own.   
  
Theirs was a story ending in darkness, in earth and blood, but maybe, maybe they’d have eternity, and Sanghyuk loved Jaehwan so much— this Jaehwan, the Jaehwan that had made flowers bloom under his fingertips, that cheated at board games, that laughed at Wonshik’s bad jokes, that could smile with the light of the sun— he was worth having for eternity. He was worth the darkness, and the blood.   
  
“I want you,” Sanghyuk said, because it was true. He didn’t necessarily want to turn— he just wanted Jaehwan. Wanted a life with him. And with Wonshik, and Hakyeon, and Hongbin, and even Taekwoon. He wanted so many things he could hardly quantify, even to himself.  
  
Jaehwan held his gaze for a long moment, and whatever he saw there made his face finally crumple, and a tear slipped down his cheek, leaving a trail of watery red. “Well,” he said, voice going high and catching on a sob, “I— I am witty and— and devilishly handsome—”  
  
Sanghyuk leaned forward, stopping Jaehwan’s deflective babbling with his own mouth. The kiss was soft, but it made Jaehwan fall silent anyway, and Sanghyuk could feel some of the tension bleed out of him.  
  
“I love you,” Sanghyuk murmured against Jaehwan’s lips, and Jaehwan made a broken little noise.   
  
“I love you too,” Jaehwan whispered, and he pulled away, hiccuping a little. “Oh, god, I’m going to have to kill you.”  
  
“It doesn’t have to be you,” Sanghyuk said, though a part of him rebelled violently at the thought of being turned by anyone else. But he knew what he was asking, and he was not going to force this on Jaehwan, in case it— in case it didn’t work.   
  
Jaehwan shook his head. “If it must be done, I would rather it be me.”  
  
“So you’ll do it, then?” Sanghyuk whispered, feeling his heart race at the thought. There was no going back, now. “You’ll turn me?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaehwan promised, and he sighed, the softest of sounds. “Yes, I will.”  
  
Sanghyuk swallowed, feeling his heart in his throat. “Before we agree to this— I need one more promise.”  
  
Jaehwan met his eyes, and a second tear rolled down his cheek, but the sobs had quieted, leaving him seeming smaller, tired. “Yes?”  
  
"Promise me— promise me you won’t kill yourself, if it doesn’t work."   
  
Jaehwan’s eyes widened fractionally, and just like that, the tears were coming anew. “No,” he gasped out. “No, I cannot promise that.”  
  
It was selfish, but Sanghyuk could not— he could not lay dying, knowing that if he did not wake, Jaehwan would die with him, would burn in the sun, or put silver in his own heart. He couldn’t bear it. “That is the deal, Jaehwan, I can’t— I _won’t_ be responsible for your death.”   
  
"Can you truly be so cruel, that you would force me to go on, for endless eternity, having lost you?" Jaehwan asked softly, and Sanghyuk felt the words like a knife.  
  
“I—” Sanghyuk began, then shook his head. “Promise me you won’t kill yourself, if it goes wrong. Promise me.”  
  
Jaehwan’s lips parted, and he looked so torn, so wretched, that Sanghyuk felt guilt settle heavy on his back.   
  
“I promise.”  
  
——  
  
It was odd, how the house was well occupied, yet it felt more empty than ever before.  
  
“Do you think Jaehwan will be able to kill him?” Hongbin murmured, and at Wonshik’s glance, he added, “Sanghyuk, I mean.”  
  
Wonshik pulled his mug from the microwave before the machine could beep, steam coming off the blood in swirls. He turned back to Hongbin, who was sitting atop the island in the kitchen, legs swinging slightly. “I knew who you meant,” he said softly. “But what do you mean? He’ll want him to turn, you know he will.”  
  
Hongbin cocked his head to the side, as if he were listening to something, to Jaehwan and Sanghyuk talking in the library, though Wonshik knew he could hear them no more than Wonshik could. “Wanting Sanghyuk to be vampire, and wanting to kill him, are different beasts,” Hongbin murmured. “For Sanghyuk to turn, he first has to be drained, and I can’t see Jaehwan managing it. Could you do it?”  
  
Wonshic winced internally at the thought. He’d become acclimated — as acclimated as he could be — to killing strangers, but killing someone he loved, even with the chance that they’d rise again— no. No he could not. But Taekwoon had done it to Hakyeon, and Wonshik knew Jaehwan would not want anyone else to be Sanghyuk’s maker.   
  
“No,” Wonshik said. “I couldn’t kill Sanghyuk any more than I could have killed you.”  
  
Hongbin nibbled his bottom lip, the tips of his fangs catching on the skin. “Nor I,” he said softly. “And Lord knows Hakyeon won’t be able to either. That leaves Taekwoon or Jaehwan.”  
  
“It will have to be Jaehwan,” Wonshik said. He leaned against the edge of the island beside Hongbin and took a tiny sip of blood. “I think— I think Sanghyuk would want it to be Jaehwan.”  
  
Hongbin looked to the hallway, still nibbling his lip. “We’ll see, I suppose,” Hongbin murmured, and Wonshik touched his fingertips to Hongbin’s lips to stop his nibbling. His fingertips came away red. “If his turning is successful— he’ll be like me. A vampire like me.”  
  
Wonshik frowned. “What do you mean?”   
  
“Just—” Hongbin began, then broke off, giving a one shouldered shrug. “I think he’ll adjust well, I think he’ll suit vampirism.”  
  
“You suit vampirism?” Wonshik asked, raising an eyebrow, and Hongbin grinned.  
  
“Do I not?” he asked, silky, and then flicked the back of Wonshik’s hand, over his knuckles. “Don’t waste that.”  
  
Wonshik looked down at his hand, at the smears of blood over his fingertips, and brought them to his mouth and licked them clean.   
  
——  
  
Sanghyuk’s breathing was even and deep, his body warm in Jaehwan’s arms, and Jaehwan found himself grateful for the fact that he lacked a heartbeat, as it could not betray him.   
  
Quietly, Sanghyuk turned a page in the book he was reading, one Jaehwan had read countless times so the binding was beginning to fail. Jaehwan shifted, tugging Sanghyuk nearer, kissing the sensitive spot behind his ear softly, and Sanghyuk sighed.  
  
Jaehwan supposed it was fair, for fate to give him a love as cruel as he himself was. Softly cruel.   
  
His mind was whirling. He might have this for eternity. If he could bring himself to take Sanghyuk’s life, bleed him dry. He moved his mouth, pressing kisses down the side of Sanghyuk’s neck, against his pulse. This could be his, for eternity, truly his, but he’d have to destroy it first. He wasn’t sure he could.   
  
And if he did, if he laid Sanghyuk dead in the ground, and he did not rise again—   
  
He knew what Sanghyuk wanted, why he’d asked for Jaehwan’s word, but he could not, would not, live for endless nights in a world where he’d lost him.   
  
Jaehwan was not a liar, but he still had options left.   
  
——  
  
It was Taekwoon’s turn tonight. He always put it off, for weeks that bled into months, and it always made Hakyeon feel a certain brand of guilt. This was his biggest regret about turning, that he’d pushed Taekwoon back to this, to killing strangers, because Hakyeon’s blood could no longer sustain him. He wished it could.   
  
The night was quiet, save for the sound of Taekwoon swallowing, the girl’s slowing breaths, stuttering heartbeat. Hakyeon never watched Taekwoon feed, not even after two years of this. There were some things he’d had to change about himself, and the taste of blood in his mouth had become as familiar as the feeling of Taekwoon’s hand in his, but he wasn’t sure he could ever adjust to this part.   
  
They all had lines, he supposed, lines drawn in the sand, that could not be crossed. This was just one of his.  
  
Hakyeon waited on the sidewalk, just out of the circle of pale yellow light cast by a streetlamp. They were near a closed cafe, the flower pots set out front budding small green leaves, as winter was finally making a retreat. There would be more people out soon, as the weather grew warmer, and the days longer.   
  
The girl’s heart had stopped, and there was the gentle sound of shifting. Hakyeon turned to look at the darkened mouth of the alleyway, waited. Taekwoon took only a few seconds to appear, moving at a human pace. Hakyeon held his hand out, and Taekwoon took it, stopping at Hakyeon’s side.  
  
“Better now?” Hakyeon asked softly.   
  
Taekwoon licked his lips, and it reminded Hakyeon of a cat. “Mm.” Taekwoon leaned down, resting his forehead on Hakyeon’s shoulder, tucking himself in against Hakyeon’s side like he was much smaller than he actually was.  
  
Hakyeon smiled, easing a little, and he turned and pressed a kiss into Taekwoon’s hair, thick and black, tickling his skin.   
  
“And you?” Taekwoon murmured, turning Hakyeon towards him, sliding his hands around Hakyeon’s lower back, pressing their bodies together. “Are you alright?”  
  
Hakyeon turned his face up towards Taekwoon, and Taekwoon obliged him, pressing gentle kisses over Hakyeon’s face.”Yes,” Hakyeon whispered. “I’m alright.”  
  
“Good,” Taekwoon murmured against Hakyeon’s cheek before pulling away, hands sliding around to grasp Hakyeon’s. “There is still time before dawn. Is there anything you wish to do?”  
  
“I kind of want to check on Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon said, and the corners of Taekwoon’s lips twitched. “Provided he is, you know, still alive.”  
  
“Dearest,” Taekwoon said softly, beginning to walk slowly down the street, tugging Hakyeon along beside him. “You will have to accept this. If Sanghyuk does turn, you cannot punish him for that decision for eternity. Nor Jaehwan.”   
  
Hakyeon sighed, mouth twisting sourly. “I’m not going to, I just don’t understand,” he said softly.   
  
“You don’t understand turning for love?”  
  
Were Hakyeon still human, he might have blushed. “I understand that,” he said. “I just don’t understand doing it for _Jaehwan_. And I worry about their future, because Jaehwan is, well, Jaehwan.”  
  
Taekwoon looked ahead of them, falling silent, but Hakyeon knew he was thinking, rather than that he had nothing to say. “He is Jaehwan,” Taekwoon agreed, “but he is a changed Jaehwan. And Sanghyuk is grown, Hakyeon, he is no longer a child, and he has known Jaehwan for years now. I think we both need to trust his judgement, on whether or not Jaehwan has changed enough for it to be worth _Sanghyuk_ giving up his life.”  
  
“Since when are you an advocate for Jaehwan?” Hakyeon asked, a little bitterly.  
  
Taekwoon shrugged. “I have known Jaehwan for many centuries, and I thought I knew him inside and out, but in these last few months he has surprised me greatly,” he murmured. “And that is only what we have seen, and I know he is most likely hiding the larger parts of his changes from us, keeping them behind closed doors and showing them only to Sanghyuk.”  
  
They continued walking, silence falling over them for a time. The light from the street lamps skirted around them, flickering over their feet. “You hated him for centuries,” Hakyeon finally said, “and he did nothing to dissuade it. Do you really think he can change so much in such a short time?   
  
“We all can change,” Taekwoon whispered, “and maybe a few decades ago I would not have given room to entertain the thought of it, of Jaehwan becoming something good, of even bothering to give him the benefit of the doubt. But he _is_ changing, Hakyeon, and perhaps I was too harsh on him in the past, even if I thought he deserved it.” He paused, avoiding Hakyeon’s eyes. “I’m not so sure he did. But then, I am not so sure I did either.”  
  
Hakyeon frowned, about to ask Taekwoon to explain, but the low hum of an engine reached his ears. “Car, he murmured, and he and Taekwoon flit up, onto a two story building with a sloping roof, crouching down to wait.   
  
The car turned down the street, its bright white headlights searing. It was going slow, the tires crunching over the asphalt.  
  
“A VCF patrol car,” Hakyeon whispered, like he was afraid of being heard, and the two of them watched it drive slowly past and then stop a few blocks down, where they’d left the body of the girl in an alleyway. “Someone may have seen us,” he said, and Taekwoon hummed.  
  
Hakyeon didn’t like it. They hunted in the better parts of town because as a rule there was less vampire activity in such places and thus fewer patrols, less vigilance. But of late they’d seen more patrol cars, more undercover hunters, and it made him uneasy. They lived too close to here.   
  
“Come,” Taekwoon whispered, as the VCF officers exited the car to investigate, and Hakyeon followed him as he flit away, towards home.  
  
“What did you mean?” Hakyeon asked once they were on the other side of the buildings, a block over, sticking to the shadows. “When you said you weren’t sure if you deserved it?”  
  
As Hakyeon watched, Taekwoon did that thing where his lips pressed together and his brow furrowed, and Hakyeon could tell he didn’t want to speak of it further. He wouldn’t push his lover, if that was the case. He knew Taekwoon had secrets, and many of them were ugly things.  
  
Taekwoon surprised Hakyeon by answering. “Our master was cruel, in many ways, though he hid it cleverly,” he said, voice soft as a feather. “He turned the both of us into people we weren’t, and after he died, we were left to take that damage out on one another in different ways. I hated him, I hated Jaehwan, and I hated myself. And in retrospect, I do not think Jaehwan nor I deserved what we were put through, by our master, by one another.” Taekwoon let go of Hakyeon’s hand, stepping ahead and hiding his face. “I think it is time for a change, for us to change, to try. And Jaehwan finally seems willing. Maybe we can both finally bury the past.”  
  
Taekwoon never spoke of his first years as a vampire, or his early years with Jaehwan. Really, there were large chunks of time in his life that Hakyeon knew next to nothing about. He had told Hakyeon of his human life, and small bits and pieces of what followed, but considering Taekwoon had lived for four centuries, Hakyeon knew there was much left unsaid.   
  
“What exactly happened?” Hakyeon asked.  
  
Taekwoon looked back, a little sharply, and Hakyeon knew he wasn’t going to get an answer.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaehwan ran through the darkened house, supernaturally fast, the paintings on the walls flickering past in streaks of color. The wards of the house were rippling in agitation, and the barest whisper of sound followed Jaehwan, like a ghost on his heels.  
  
He wasn’t fast enough, was never fast enough, and he was struck hard across the back. The impact caused him to fall forward, sprawling across the cold marble floor. He moved to roll over, lashing out and backhanding Taekwoon viciously across the face, his gold ring opening a slice across Taekwoon’s pretty pale cheek.   
  
Taekwoon gasped, face snapping to the side, but he recovered faster than Jaehwan could move. He struck Jaehwan in turn, and he hit harder, he always hit harder, and Jaehwan found himself facing the marble again, blood spilling out of his lips. He made to push up with his hands, palms flat on the stone, but then Taekwoon was on top of him, holding him down with his weight, and Jaehwan knew he was pinned and would get nowhere.   
  
Jaehwan pushed back anyway, pressing himself against Taekwoon’s body and chuckling in the back of his throat. “If you were feeling frisky you should have just said,” he murmured, and Taekwoon shoved him down with a hand on the back of his neck.   
  
He knew it was coming, but he still jerked when he felt the sharp tip of a knife press against his side. It didn’t burn, so it wasn’t one of the silver ones. Taekwoon paused, and Jaehwan felt the hesitation in him, so he ground back, against Taekwoon, who was decidedly not aroused.   
  
“Not into it today, Taekwoonie? That’s a bit hurtful,” Jaehwan growled, and then the knife was pushing against his skin, cutting smoothly, and Jaehwan choked off.   
  
“Stop moving,” Taekwoon whispered, his fingers tightening on the back of Jaehwan’s neck. “I don’t want to accidentally kill you.”  
  
“Don’t you?” Jaehwan whispered back, and then the knife was in him, sliding perfectly between his ribs, tearing through his lung. Jaehwan cried out, the sound garbled as the blood bubbled into his throat. Taekwoon seemed to love listening to Jaehwan scream. He did, after all, have a beautiful voice. “We could do this on a bed, you know,” Jaehwan gasped, and Taekwoon wrenched the knife free of him. “Sprinkle some rose petals around—”  
  
In a flash Taekwoon’s hand was gone from the back of Jaehwan’s neck and was instead slapping over his mouth, silencing him, and he yanked, pulling Jaehwan upwards against his body, onto his knees. Then the knife was back, biting into the soft skin of his stomach, and Taekwoon tore it across him in an arc.   
  
Jaehwan screamed, the sound muffled against Taekwoon’s palm, and he twisted, hard, but got nowhere. His fangs scraped across Taekwoon’s palm, drawing blood, and it tasted like Jaehwan’s, like their master’s, like all he knew.   
  
He found himself sobbing, arched against Taekwoon’s body, and softly, he heard Taekwoon echo it, and then Jaehwan was tossed onto the cold floor, slippery with his own blood, and he was alone.   
  
——  
  
The weather was steadily growing warmer, but the night air was still cool on Sanghyuk’s skin. He’d been perched firmly on a swing, gangly legs spread out in front of him for lack of anywhere else for them to go. His injured hand was placed carefully in his lap, while the other curled firmly around the cold chain of the swing.  
  
Jaehwan was beside him, but he had opted to stand on his swing, swaying slightly, his head on a swivel. Sanghyuk wasn’t so worried about keeping watch; he knew Wonshik and Hongbin were around. Jaehwan was oddly quiet.   
  
“Are you alright?” Sanghyuk asked, gazing up at Jaehwan’s face, struggling to make out his expression from this angle.  
  
Jaehwan came down, sitting on his swing so their eyes were level. “Yes,” he finally said, and it was flat, so Sanghyuk gave him a look, a reminder, which made Jaehwan shake himself. “Yes, I am fine. I suppose it is all just surreal.”  
  
Sanghyuk softened. “Jaehwan, you don’t have to do this, you know that right? I won’t force you.”  
  
Jaehwan swallowed; Sanghyuk watched his throat work with it. “I want you to turn. And I want to be the one who turns you,” Jaehwan said. He smiled at Sanghyuk, and it was small and sad. “The depth of the bond a maker and child share is excruciatingly deep. And I don’t want anyone else to have that piece of you.”  
  
Sanghyuk’s grip on the chain tightened. He knew in many ways he was backing Jaehwan into a corner, even though he wasn’t necessarily trying to. “Possessive,” he murmured, and Jaehwan’s smile widened into something slightly more genuine.   
  
Wonshik was there suddenly, and it made Sanghyuk’s wards jangly. “They’re here,” he said, and Sanghyuk turned to look at the winding sidewalk, catching sight of Hakyeon and Taekwoon being led by Hongbin.   
  
Jaehwan stood, while Sanghyuk didn’t bother, simply waited. Hakyeon’s eyes roved over him as he approached, taking in Sanghyuk’s fading bruises, and the crutch that was leaned up, out of reach, against the jungle gym. His eyes narrowed.  
  
“I’ve hardly used it,” Sanghyuk said cheerfully, gesturing at the crutch. “Jaehwan insists on carrying me everywhere.”  
  
“It’s faster,” Jaehwan said smoothly.   
  
The sand crunched under Hakyeon’s shoes as he came forward, sitting on the swing Jaehwan had just vacated, and Hongbin wandered over to the jungle gym, sitting on one of the ladders. “How are you feeling?” Hakyeon asked.  
  
“Better,” Sanghyuk said honestly. “It’s nice to get some air, you know.” He found himself trembling a bit, nervous all of a sudden.  
  
Hakyeon noticed, Hakyeon always noticed. He sighed, heavily, and then looked out over the park. “Just say it,” Hakyeon said softly and not entirely kindly.   
  
Sanghyuk swallowed, mouth twisting. “Are you going to be like that, then?” he asked, and Hakyeon had the grace to look ashamed.   
  
“I didn’t want this life for you,” he said softly. His eyes darted to Jaehwan, and he scowled before looking back at Sanghyuk.   
  
“Would you rather I go back to hunting, and die like this—” He brought his bandaged hand up to eye level, highlighting his injuries, what _this_ meant. “Or went on until I burnt out, like you nearly did?”  
  
Hakyeon’s face twisted, eyes sad. “I— we’re not the same,” he murmured. “You’re stronger than I was.”  
  
Sanghyuk looked to Jaehwan, and Jaehwan in turn looked to Hakyeon. “I think it’s time you knew,” Jaehwan said softly, “about the fact that Sanghyuk’s had his own death looming over his head for months.”  
  
That caused a bit of a stir, all the vampires looking to Jaehwan in a fast, alert snap that made Sanghyuk’s wards fizzle.   
  
It was Wonshik who spoke. “What?”  
  
“Ilhoon has the Sight,” Sanghyuk said softly, looking at the ground so he wouldn’t see their eyes turn to him. “He told me months ago that I was going to die soon.”  
  
“Though at this point, I suppose we must wonder if it is a self-fulling prophecy,” Jaehwan said humorlessly, and Sanghyuk shot him a glare.  
  
“Do you want to take that chance?” Sanghyuk snapped. “Not turn me and then have me die anyway? I don’t.”   
  
That shut Jaehwan up well enough, and he subsided, pressing his lips together unhappily.  
  
The others watched this exchange with interest, and Hakyeon was looking between the two with wide eyes. “You told Jaehwan,” he said slowly. “You told Jaehwan but not me? Nor Wonshik?”  
  
“I didn’t want to tell _any_ of you,” Sanghyuk said, a bit despairingly. “But Jaehwan— it slipped out, I could only hide it so much, from him.”  
  
There was a pause, the breeze sweeping over them coldly and scattering sand across their feet.  
  
“No wonder you’ve been acting so fucking weird,” Hongbin finally murmured to Jaehwan, and Jaehwan looked back at him sourly.   
  
“The bottom line is,” Sanghyuk said, speaking up before Jaehwan could make a quip, “I’m on a sped up timeline, and I don’t know when it’s going to run out. I’d rather take the leap myself, before something gets me that I have no control over.”  
  
Hakyeon frowned. “I don’t know if not wanting to die is— is the best reasoning for turning, Sanghyuk,” he said. “It’s— yes, it’s an escape from death, in ways, but you’ll have to kill people to sustain yourself. It’s a heavy cost to pay.”  
  
“It’s not just that I don’t want to die,” Sanghyuk murmured. “And you know it. We’re not the same person, any more than you or Wonshik are the same person, but our reasonings are all similar enough.” He scuffed his feet into the sand. “I don’t want to die, yes, but it’s also because I’m in love with Jaehwan.”  
  
Wonshik made a noise, a sort of choked, coughing sound, and Hongbin elbowed him. Despite everything, it made Sanghyuk smile.   
  
Hakyeon’s nostrils flared. “Why?” he asked, almost stubbornly, and Taekwoon shifted, like he wanted to step forward, check Hakyeon, but for now, he held himself back. “He is one of the most obnoxious people I have ever had to deal with.”  
  
“The kettle dares call the pot blackened,” Jaehwan said loudly, and when Hakyeon turned to glare at him, he stuck his tongue out.  
  
“Jaehwan, be quiet,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan subsided, almost too obediently. “But Hakyeon, he has a point. I could not have a romantic relationship with you, for instance, because we just— don’t mesh. Your brand of obnoxious doesn’t suit me.” Hakyeon squinted, and Sanghyuk fought off a sigh, knowing he’d never be able to truly explain the _why_ , when he hardly even knew it himself. “Jaehwan suits me, Hakyeon,” he said simply, tired. “He’s— he makes me happy, when he isn’t being a bastard.”  
  
“And he’s being a bastard a lot less these days,” Hongbin pointed out.   
  
“I am glad my efforts are being appreciated,” Jaehwan said, though his tone has softened, lacking the previous bite. He made to step forward, then aborted the motion. “Hakyeon.”  
  
Hakyeon seemed to steel himself before he looked to Jaehwan, and his spine was stiff, face weary. “What?”  
  
Jaehwan opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I love him,” he finally said. “I’d do anything for him, even if it means becoming a different person. I know you don’t like me, I know you can’t trust me, the feelings are mutual, but— surely, after everything, you must know that I love him enough to do whatever needs to be done, for him.”  
  
Sanghyuk found himself blushing, and Wonshik was doing that thing he did when he was uncomfortable, looking around at the ground, the trees, the sky, like he was pretending he was anywhere else but here. Hongbin, on the other hand, was watching unabashedly, while Taekwoon loomed over them, as seemingly serene as always.   
  
Jaehwan, for his part, seemed just as uncomfortable as Wonshik, his hands holding his own upper arms. It was hard for him to bare himself to Sanghyuk— it must be even harder, to bare himself to Hakyeon, and Taekwoon, with the state of their relationship being what it was. Jaehwan was a very prideful creature, and he seemed content to say no more, seemed slightly ashamed, like he’d been forced to admit weakness.   
  
It was Hongbin, who spoke into the quiet. “We’re family, Hakyeon,” he said gently. “If Sanghyuk turns, we’ll basically be a coven, a nest, very much intertwined. I think it is time we started to move forward, and learned how to be blood. Jaehwan isn’t perfect, but none of us are, and he has done much for me, and for Wonshik.”   
  
Jaehwan brought his hand up, rubbing at the back of his neck. “This is terrible,” he muttered to himself. Sanghyuk knew him well enough to know he was embarrassed, and possibly touched— he wasn’t used to heartfelt admissions.   
  
Hakyeon, for his part, looked thoughtful. “I’m not going to like it,” he finally said softly. “I can’t like it— but I won’t fight your decision, Sanghyuk, and I’ll support you as best I can. I promised to try and respect your judgement— and Taekwoon has pointed out to me that you’re grown, now, and it’s true, even if it is hard for me to see it.”  
  
“Sometimes things take time to adjust to,” Sanghyuk said softly. “We’ll have plenty of it, in the end.”  
  
He held his uninjured hand out, and after a moment, Hakyeon took it, intertwining their fingers together and giving Sanghyuk a watery smile. “I love you too, kiddo,” Hakyeon whispered.   
  
“I know,” Sanghyuk said, because he did. He knew that was why Hakyeon was— like this, that ultimately, he just wanted what was best for Sanghyuk, and he didn’t think Jaehwan was it. Maybe he wasn’t. But it was still Sanghyuk’s choice, in the end.   
  
Behind Hakyeon, Jaehwan stepped up to Taekwoon, murmured something in his ear that had Taekwoon’s brow hitching, a little. Then the two of them quietly walked away, out over the grass, Jaehwan leading by a few steps, Taekwoon trailing after.   
  
Sanghyuk watched them go. “I’m afraid it isn’t going to work,” he murmured. “I’m afraid I’m going to stay dead.”  
  
Hakyeon’s hand tightened in his. “There is always the risk, Taekwoon told me,” Hakyeon said. “But— you won’t know, you know, if it doesn’t.”  
  
That made Sanghyuk laugh, shortly. “True,” he said, still smiling. “But you will. And so will Jaehwan.”  
  
There was suddenly a warm hand on Sanghyuk’s shoulder, and he turned to see Wonshik standing next to him. “It isn’t your job to worry about that, about us, you need to worry more about what you’re going to be around for, if it works.”  
  
“How can I not worry?” Sanghyuk asked. “You saw Jaehwan’s meltdown before— you know if I die, if he _killed me_ —”  
  
“It won’t be pretty,” Wonshik said grimly. “It won’t, but he’s my maker, and he’s Hongbin’s— adopted maker.” Hongbin made a face. “And he’s Taekwoon’s brother. We’ll watch over him, if you don’t wake up. I promise.”  
  
“Thank you,” Sanghyuk said softly, and all of them looked out over the grass to watch Jaehwan and Taekwoon slowly walking away.  
  
“You really love him,” Hakyeon said softly, and it wasn’t a question, but Sanghyuk answered it anyway.  
  
“Yes, I do,” he said, and Hakyeon sighed.  
  
“You’ll need to get your affairs in order, say your goodbyes,” Hakyeon murmured, looking back at him. “What about your friends? Your parents?”  
  
“The closest friends I have are, for the most part, here right now,” Sanghyuk said, and Wonshik made a little noise. “And the ones that aren’t— they know, about Jaehwan, about my decision. As for my parents—” Sanghyuk stopped, because yes, this was a point he was going to have a hard time dealing with.  
  
“When was the last time you saw them?” Hongbin asked.  
  
“In person?” Sanghyuk asked, feeling a stab of guilt. “A long time, we usually just text. They— well. They think I have an illustrious career in the VCF.”  
  
“You should go see them before you turn,” Hakyeon advised. “After you turn, you could continue texting them, but— in the end, you’ll have to fake your own death, somehow.”  
  
Sanghyuk swallowed thickly, and reminded himself that death was coming for him one way or another. His parents would have to say goodbye to him soon regardless.   
  
“Yeah,” he said. “You’re right.”  
  
Hakyeon smiled softly. “I do love hearing that.”  
  
Sanghyuk snorted, and then rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’ll visit them, at some point.”  
  
“Good,” Hakyeon said, and he was settling into mothering mode, Sanghyuk could read it plain as day. “And— are you sure you want Jaehwan to turn you? I mean, giving him ultimate power over you seems—”  
  
“Foolish, I know,” Sanghyuk said. “But if I let you turn me, who knows what chaos would ensue? And Wonshik is practically at your beck and call, so he’s out of the question— the only one I’d trust is Hongbin.”  
  
Hakyeon’s nostrils flared again. “Taekwoon could do it.”  
  
“That thought actually gives me the heebie jeebies,” Sanghyuk said. Hakyeon sniffed, his feathers seemingly ruffled.  
  
“It was just a thought,” he muttered, glancing over all of them. “We really will be a coven, won’t we? Legally a group of vampires is categorized as such when you have more than four in one place.”  
  
“I guess, yeah,” Sanghyuk said. “It’s weird to think about us like that.”  
  
Off to the side, Hongbin was smiling, and Hakyeon narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you smiling?” he asked, suspicious.   
  
That made Hongbin’s smile widen into a grin with far too many teeth. “Just thinking.”  
  
“About?”  
  
Hongbin looked to Wonshik, eyes turned into crescents, and said sweetly, “Hunting.”  
  
——  
  
Jaehwan and Taekwoon walked away from the others, moving smoothly across the grassy areas of the park. They walked at human speed, Jaehwan’s choice. He was in no hurry to get to the conversation he’d been planning out in his head.   
  
When the outer perimeter of the park came up in front of them, Jaehwan paused, coming to a stop quite suddenly. Taekwoon paused too, turning to face him. “This is far enough,” Jaehwan said. “I didn’t want to be overheard by the others by any chance.”   
  
Taekwoon didn’t say anything. He looked at Jaehwan patiently, face schooled into that blank expression that Jaehwan had always disliked so much. After their centuries together, Jaehwan could read him well enough, but he hated that Taekwoon always made it _difficult_. Other people were always easy, but Taekwoon tended to be unpredictable. Dangerous.   
  
“You understand why, of course,” Jaehwan said. “Why I want to talk to you?”  
  
“Yes,” Taekwoon murmured.   
  
Jaehwan found that he had to look away from him, looking instead down at the ground where the slight breeze was stirring the leaves. He could not be looking at Taekwoon while he asked for this. He cursed Sanghyuk for pushing him to this, to shameful desperation.  
  
“I promised,” Jaehwan said slowly, “back when Hakyeon was going to be turned, that I would do whatever you asked of me, afterwards. And I kept that promise, I helped you, like I said I would.”   
  
“You did,” Taekwoon said. He was content to wait for Jaehwan to say what he needed to say, but that just made Jaehwan want to clam up even further. It took almost physical effort to get the words out.   
  
“You asked that I not kill you if Hakyeon had not risen again. I would have kept that promise, even if you had begged otherwise in the aftermath.” He struggled, to put into words what so crippled his heart. “I don’t ask for the same.”   
  
Taekwoon had been still previously but now it was almost terrifying, as he took in the implications of what Jaehwan was saying. “You would like me to—”  
  
“Yes,” Jaehwan said, interrupting before Taekwoon could say it. “I do.”   
  
Taekwoon’s eyes flickered away for a moment, then back. “I am surprised,” he said. “I had not thought— you are not the type, you know, to think of doing such things.”   
  
Jaehwan gave a short, humorless bark of laughter. Oh, if only Taekwoon knew. “Before Sanghyuk— before. Before any of it. My life was always the most important thing, to me,” Jaehwan said. “I was not happy when I was forced to become an Elimia but I am grateful, of sorts, to have enjoyed so much that life has to offer. But I think that you would have been able to carry on if Hakyeon had died that night. The thought of— I am not you, perhaps I am not as strong as you.” He laughed again, but now it was almost a sob. “We truly have discovered my greatest weakness.”   
  
“It is not a weakness to love,” Taekwoon said quietly. “I have told you that before.”   
  
Jaehwan worked to pull himself back together. “Nevertheless,” he said, smoothing his voice out, “if you do not do it, then I will find my own way to do it.” That was— well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. He had promised Sanghyuk he wouldn’t, but he was not going to tell Taekwoon that. He knew it would make him uncooperative. And really, Jaehwan was technically keeping his promise. He’d prefer it this way. “I ask that you don’t make me do that. As— desperate, as I no doubt will be, I shouldn’t imagine I’d enjoy burning in the sunlight.”   
  
He walked a few steps up the path and then stopped when he realised Taekwoon was not following. He looked back and found Taekwoon watching him closely, brow furrowed like he was thinking, hard.   
  
“Do not strain yourself, brother,” Jaehwan said.   
  
“I knew your feelings for him ran deep— but do you truly love him this much?” Taekwoon asked, straight to the point, as usual.   
  
It still took a moment to get the word out. It was still hard, especially like this, with nowhere to hide. “Yes.” He loved Sanghyuk so much that while he knew that this must be done, the thought that Sanghyuk would die in his arms, that he was going to kill him, and only the grace of fate would have him rise again the next night, was agony. He wrapped his arms around himself, gave a hollow laugh. “How do you cope with it?”  
  
Taekwoon’s face softened. Jaehwan didn’t hate it, exactly. “You do not,” he said. “It never gets easier, you simply learn to live beside it.”   
  
Jaehwan made a noise of understanding. “I do love him. Every bit as much as I suspect you love Hakyeon. I would do— I have _done_ countless unspeakable things to keep him safe, to keep him _mine_.”   
  
Taekwoon sighed. “He is not your possession,” he said. “He has told you that himself enough times.”   
  
Jaehwan shook his head. “He is mine.” He swallowed hard. “As I am his.”   
  
“And if he dies—”   
  
“Then I die with him.” He turned his back on Taekwoon, stepping forward again. He heard the light steps of Taekwoon following him, silent to human ears. “Provided you will do me the favor of taking my life, if he does not rise again.”  
  
There was silence from behind him for several beats. “I do not wish to do this,” Taekwoon said softly and slowly, “but yes, Jaehwan, if Sanghyuk does not make it through the turning process, I will take your life.”  
  
Jaehwan was glad for the fact that he was no longer facing Taekwoon, for the sheer relief on his face was surely pathetic. “Thank you,” he whispered, and then he looked back. “Please, I know you and Hakyeon share most everything— but please do not speak of this to anyone. I do not want Sanghyuk to know.”  
  
Taekwoon was silent for a very long time, but then he nodded.  
  
——  
  
“What did you and Taekwoon talk about?” Sanghyuk asked as he watched Jaehwan putter around him, fluffing pillows and tugging at the duvet.   
  
“Matters of him and I,” Jaehwan said. From the foot of the bed he gave Sanghyuk a bland smile. “Our relationship is— well. It is not healthy, yet, but it is getting better.”   
  
Jaehwan looked away, fiddling with the duvet, tucking it in around Sanghyuk’s feet carefully, and it made Sanghyuk smile softly. “I’m proud of you,” he said, and Jaehwan looked up at him. “You’ve changed.”   
  
Jaehwan made a noise, turning away, and that made Sanghyuk smile wider. Jaehwan had already helped Sanghyuk change into his sleepwear, and as Sanghyuk watched, Jaehwan quickly unbuttoned his own shirt, shrugging it off his narrow shoulders. He placed the shirt on a plush armchair, quickly followed by his pants, and Sanghyuk wished, for the nth time, that he wasn’t quite so banged up. Sex would be nice. But he didn’t want to chance it, when his ribs still felt so tender.   
  
“Hakyeon took the news better than I anticipated,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan shot him a look over his bare shoulder, brow arched. “He did. You know it was well within character for him to go all— reality television.”  
  
“I’m not utterly convinced he isn’t going to at some point,” Jaehwan said absently. “At least he is vampire as well, now, so I know he shan’t make another attempt to murder me in daylight.”  
  
“Small mercies,” Sanghyuk murmured, watching as Jaehwan slipped some worn sweatpants on. Afterwards Jaehwan made to come to bed, but Sanghyuk asked him, “Do you have any scissors? Small ones, sewing ones?”  
  
Jaehwan frowned in bewilderment. “Yes, I believe so. Why?”  
  
“I think this is ready to come out,” Sanghyuk said, tapping at the stitch in his bottom lip. “It’s annoying me.”  
  
Jaehwan made a little tutting noise, and it took all of Sanghyuk’s willpower not to laugh. It was funny, but Jaehwan almost seemed to enjoy fussing over him. Maybe it was because it was, in a way, showing affection, and Jaehwan had been bottling up his affection for Sanghyuk for so long. Maybe he just revelled in having Sanghyuk here.   
  
It turned out that Jaehwan had a small sewing kit in one of his dresser’s drawers. “To fix any errant buttons,” he muttered dangerously at Sanghyuk’s amused look.  
  
“I wasn’t going to make fun,” Sanghyuk said. “The image of you sewing is very cute, though.”  
  
“Everything I do is cute,” Jaehwan said as he sat beside Sanghyuk on the bed. “Come here.”  
  
Sanghyuk obediently leaned forward, and held very still as Jaehwan touched his jaw, thumb coming to rest on Sanghyuk’s bottom lip. He closed his eyes, heard the snip of the scissors, and then felt the gentle tug of the stitch being pulled from his skin.   
  
Jaehwan swiped his thumb over where the stitch had been. Sanghyuk’s eyes fluttered open. “How does it look?” Sanghyuk murmured.  
  
“Pretty,” Jaehwan said, husky, and then he was kissing Sanghyuk. It was gentle, and Sanghyuk craved for rough, frantic, but it would have to wait.   
  
Jaehwan’s lips were so soft, so warm, and Sanghyuk had missed having them on his. He touched the side of Jaehwan’s face, sliding his hand around to cup the back of Jaehwan’s head.   
  
“I love you,” Sanghyuk murmured into Jaehwan’s mouth.  
  
Jaehwan gasped, very softly, lips parting. “Again,” he whispered, climbing up onto his knees momentarily so he could move to straddle Sanghyuk’s hips. He didn’t weigh much, but Sanghyuk could tell he was being careful of himself so as not to push on any of Sanghyuk’s many bruises.  
  
Sanghyuk laid back into the bed, the pillows giving under him. “I love you,” he repeated, and Jaehwan smiled, slightly lopsided and tousled, and he looked so young, and so very beautiful. It was strange, to think he was dead, and had been dead for three hundred years, a creature run on magic and darkness and blood.   
  
He looked human, sometimes, now. But perhaps, it was just that he had changed, in Sanghyuk’s eyes.   
  
That vampires had changed, in Sanghyuk’s eyes.   
  
——  
  
They passed three VCF cars on the way home, one of them parked a mere three blocks from the grate to their apartment.   
  
Hakyeon didn’t like it, they had enough on their plate. “Why?” he asked softly. “Why are they here now?”  
  
Taekwoon shook his head. “I do not know.”


	4. Chapter 4

Jaehwan had pretty hands. He’d always been told so, and it was all the more obvious when he was playing the piano, the ivory keys somehow drawing it out.   
  
They’d lit the chandelier tonight, the flames casting flickering shadows on the wall, though to Jaehwan’s eyes, it left the room almost starkly bright.   
  
He was singing, the notes coming easy, as easy as breathing, and he let the sound resonate within him, fill him up. He endeavored to not be overly loud, as his master was across the room, sitting on the couch and speaking freely with their guests.  
  
Most of their guests. Elizabeth, a lovely brunette woman, was standing beside the piano, watching Jaehwan play.   
  
She didn’t clap when he finished, but she smiled, a small little smile, enough for Jaehwan to see her fangs had run out a little. Jaehwan looked away from her, down at the keys, at his own pale fingers.  
  
“He has a lovely voice,” she said, her voice carrying.  
  
It was Jaehwan’s master who replied. “Yes, my little songbird is quite talented,” he said, and Jaehwan glanced over, trying not to visibly preen under the words. His master gestured at him, beckoning him over. “Come here, sweetling, that is enough entertainment for tonight.”  
  
Jaehwan put the cover down over the keys before obediently standing, going to stand by his master’s side. Elizabeth followed, lazy, smooth, possessing a grace Jaehwan did not yet have, a grace that would only come with age.  
  
His master snapped his fingers, absentmindedly, and Jaehwan sat down on the floor at his master’s feet, folding his hands in his lap.  
  
There were three others there tonight, one more female and two males. Jaehwan had never met one couple previously, but Elizabeth and Emil he had.  
  
“How old is he now?” the strange male asked.   
  
“Only two years,” Jaehwan’s master replied. He reached down, running a fingertip along the shell of Jaehwan’s ear.  
  
“He suits you,” Emil said in his deep voice. “What of the other one? Last time I saw you, you were still trying to break him in.”  
  
“A hundred years is a rather long time to break a child in,” Elizabeth noted.  
  
Jaehwan’s master sighed in a way that was utterly put upon. “I’ve let Taekwoon go. There was nothing to be done, he simply never adjusted.”  
  
“Pity,” Emil said, and then he turned to the new couple to explain, “His other child also has the most lovely singing voice.”  
  
Jaehwan had never heard Taekwoon sing. He’d barely ever heard Taekwoon speak. But he knew, from what he’d seen, that no— Taekwoon had never adjusted. Not like Jaehwan had.  
  
Jaehwan was stronger, their master said it often.  
  
His master’s hand slid around, cupping Jaehwan’s neck, possessive. Jaehwan revelled in it. “Jaehwan is a perfectly agreeable alternative,” his master said, a little sharply. Jaehwan leaned his head against his master’s thigh in gratitude.  
  
“He is, he’s beautiful, is that what you want to hear?” the new female asked, her voice light and airy. It reminded Jaehwan of a summer morning.   
  
“Yes,” his master replied, and everyone laughed.  
  
Elizabeth spoke again, her smile lingering, “It is a shame you’ve not found a— what did you call him? An _agreeable alternative_ to this armchair.” Her fangs were still a bit run out, making her smile as predatory as it was lovely.   
  
Jaehwan felt his master puffing himself up, and fought down a smile. “Elizabeth,” his master said, “we’ve spoken of this. If you insist on insulting my taste in furniture, you shall be banished from my quarters.”  
  
“Yes, let’s not be rude, Elizabeth,” the other woman tittered. “The armchair is not, after all, nearly as bad as the maroon couch.”  
  
His master spluttered in mock outrage, and Jaehwan did smile then.   
  
It was a very ugly couch.  
  
——  
  
There was a repetitive, musical chime, going off in Sanghyuk’s ear. Beside him, Jaehwan groaned. “Why must you have friends,” he mumbled, before rolling over and falling right back asleep.  
  
Sanghyuk blearily fumbled around until his fingers met the cold plastic of his cell phone. There were a series of texts, from Ilhoon.   
  
_Are you still alive?_ the first one read, and then, seconds later: _I hope you are. As I have inherited the position of your best friend, I would expect that you’d at least give me a chance to talk you out of letting The Massive Asswipe eat you before following through with it_.   
  
Sanghyuk squinted, and as if that wasn’t enough, there were more.  
  
 _Anyway, I wanted to let you know, either way, that Kyungsoo has agreed to take me on as his protege. So I am going to be a sorcerer, provided I survive the initiation process, which is just one more reason for us to meet up asap. I’ve been doing some research, and do you know what some magical schools do for an initiation? They toss new students in bonfires. What is this shit. Why did I let you convince me to do this. You make so many bad life choices, I should know better than to listen to you._  
  
That sounded made up. That had to be made up. The image of eleven year olds getting tossed into fires played in Sanghyuk’s mind, and he made a face.   
  
_Also, head’s up_ , the last message read, _Eunkwang says there’s still a bit of a hoopla around the vamp that almost killed us, so there’s been a spike in patrols and they’ve wrangled quite a few vamps in these last few days. I don’t know where The Asswipe has you all hidden away, but I thought I should let you know_.  
  
Sanghyuk stared at his screen blankly, still half asleep. It was barely sundown.   
  
The screen dimmed and and then went black. He let his hand fall down to his side and groaned. Jaehwan shifted, rolling over and pressing himself against Sanghyuk’s side, snuffling cutely. “What is it?” Jaehwan mumbled, his breath puffing out against Sanghyuk’s neck, and the shiver that ran through Sanghyuk was pure instinct.   
  
“Ilhoon wants to meet so he can talk me out of turning,” Sanghyuk said. “He won’t be as obnoxious as Hakyeon, but still.”   
  
“Perhaps there is still room for him to see the many charming aspects of my personality,” Jaehwan said, the edges of his words indistinct.  
  
Sanghyuk swiped open his phone, saying, “Perhaps.”  
  
 _I’m alive_ , he wrote, _and we can meet whenever you want, you know, but Jaehwan is going to be hanging around because he’s anxious about me getting abducted by aliens, or god knows what._  
  
He paused. “Jaehwan,” he said, “when you got accepted into Artemis’s Academy, did they initiate you?”  
  
“Mm,” Jaehwan mumbled, “they initiate all new students, to gauge unconscious potential.”  
  
“Do you— uh— remember what that entailed?”   
  
“They had us all sit on burning wood,” was Jaehwan’s answer, and Sanghyuk sighed.   
  
_I don’t think Kyungsoo is going to set you on fire, but just in case, yes, we’ll meet asap. I imagine your hair being burnt off will make you crankier. And don’t worry, we’re always pretty vigilant around here, but Jaehwan’s place is out of your jurisdiction. I’ll let the others know, at any rate. Thanks, and we can meet whenever you’re free_.  
  
He sent the message, then turned his phone off and rolled on top of Jaehwan, in all his bony glory, and fell back asleep. He’d talk to the others later.   
  
——  
  
Hakyeon was awoken by a very grating noise, a repetitive pinging sort of sound.   
  
“Answer your phone,” Taekwoon mumbled into his pillow, and then fell silent and still again.   
  
Hakyeon struggled to open his eyes, feeling the sun still weighing him down. It had set, he could tell, but only just. “It’s not my phone,” he slurred, but Taekwoon was back asleep, not listening. Hakyeon sat up on his elbows, looking down at the charm hanging from around his neck. “What is it?” he asked it, voice husky from sleep. “Why are you making a racket?”  
  
It quieted, now that he was awake, but it was still sending out little blips. There was an unease, in the air, and it took Hakyeon a moment to realize the warding on their house was— it wasn’t disturbed, there was no one triggering them, but rather they were seething, expelling energy.   
  
“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, turning to grab his lover’s shoulder, shake him a little. Taekwoon cracked one eye open blearily, looking at him. “Something is wrong.”  
  
Taekwoon paused, a beat, but then he was sitting up, eyes cast upwards as if reading the wards.   
  
“There is no one,” he whispered, “but yes, something is wrong.”  
  
Hakyeon knew he was wide eyed, fear coursing through him. “Can we get out?”   
  
“Yes, we shall go out the back way,” Taekwoon said. “Dress quickly.”  
  
Hakyeon was out of bed and clothed in a blink, Taekwoon at his side. “Should we—” Hakyeon began, gesturing vampire-fast towards their dresser, wondering if they should pack, should prepare to not return.   
  
“No,” Taekwoon said, and there was no other explanation before he grabbed Hakyeon by the upper arm, grip almost painful, and pulled him lightning fast out the front door of the apartment.   
  
Usually when going out, they would turn right and go up, but Taekwoon guided him left, continuing further underground. Hakyeon had been this way only twice before; it was not as well kept, was damper and dirtier, the tunnels longer. It dumped them out beside an empty lot, the open space making it more obvious and less secure, which was why it was seldom used.   
  
“There was once a large building with multiple businesses here,” Taekwoon had explained, years ago, “but it got taken down, and nothing ever replaced it. It lacks cover, so we shan’t use it often, but it is good to have at least one extra escape route.”   
  
Hakyeon had nodded in agreement, but hadn’t thought they’d ever need to use it as such.  
  
These tunnels took them so far out from their apartment proper that Hakyeon began to see the occasional rat, though they skittered away at their approach. Other than that, Hakyeon heard nothing, sensed nothing, which would hopefully mean they were alone.  
  
Once they were under the back grate, they paused, staring up at the light filtering through the grate’s bars. The wards here were quieter, and Hakyeon couldn’t smell any foreign magic, but he couldn’t smell much besides waste, the water under his shoes thick with grime.   
  
The charm around his neck pinged, a soothing sound, and Hakyeon reached up to hold it tightly in his hand. “I think it’s alright,” he murmured.  
  
“I will go first,” Taekwoon said, and Hakyeon made a noise, but Taekwoon was already climbing the ladder and pushing the grate open. He flickered up through the open grate, faster than even Hakyeon could track, and then all he could do was wait and stare up at the rectangle of light, the sky still not quite black from residual sunlight. He was holding onto his charm so tightly the metal was digging into his palm.   
  
The rectangle of light was blocked as Taekwoon poked his head back over. “It is safe, but come quickly.”  
  
Hakyeon was up and out on the street in a blink, the fear in him seeming to give him the ability to move all the faster. Taekwoon took hold of him again, but his hand, this time, and pulled.  
  
“Up, onto the roofs, we must investigate the main grate,” he murmured, and Hakyeon followed him wordlessly as he leapt upwards, melting into the shadows like a ghost, or a demon.   
  
This time, they passed no VCF cars, which was unsettling in itself, after the number that had been here last night.  
  
Hakyeon didn’t want to do this, wanted to head in the opposite direction, but he knew they needed to find out what was going on. “Could it— could it be a demon? Something that is, you know, _not_ hunters coming for us?”  
  
A pause. “Perhaps.”  
  
That was a no, then. Hakyeon swallowed and fell silent, deftly leaping over a chimney stack.   
  
Taekwoon stopped when they were nearing their alleyway, putting a finger over his lips, as if Hakyeon needed to be reminded to be quiet. When he resumed moving it was at human pace, each footstep careful as they moved over a rooftop with gritty tiles.   
  
Once they reached the edge of the roof, Taekwoon knelt down so he could peer into the darkness of the alleyway, at their main grate. Hakyeon followed, but he got down on all fours, hands gripping the rain gutter.   
  
There was nothing. The alleyway looked as innocuous as it always had, the grate to their house closed as they’d left it. Hakyeon was trembling, and his charm was letting out a low wave of energy, seething, the way the house wards had been.   
  
“I don’t see anything,” Hakyeon said, the barest of whispers, “and I don’t hear anything either.”  
  
“But you should be able to feel it,” Taekwoon whispered, just as softly. “Can you not?”  
  
“You know after I turned I lost my magical intuition,” Hakyeon shot back, eyes roving over the empty alleyway.   
  
“They’ve set up a trap,” Taekwoon murmured. He sidled up nearer to Hakyeon, then pointed towards the mouth of the alleyway. “Can you see, there? The edge of a Circle. It shimmers in the streetlight.”  
  
Hakyeon squinted, and caught sight of what Taekwoon was showing him. He rather thought _shimmer_ wasn’t an accurate term; it was more like the air was disturbed, wavy, similar to the way the horizon looked on a sweltering day.   
  
“It blankets the entirety of the alley,” Taekwoon was saying. “That is why the house wards were so agitated, as it is overlapping them.”   
  
“It’s a snare for vampires?” Hakyeon asked. He knew about them, traps for vampires. HQ rarely used them, but HQ wasn’t in the business of capturing vamps, just killing them.   
  
“Most likely.” Taekwoon was frowning, and Hakyeon hadn’t seen him so rattled in a long time. “They clearly were hoping to trap us as we came out. If they didn’t know we had a back exit— it makes sense. We’d have to leave at some point, even if we knew there was danger.”  
  
Hakyeon swallowed. “If they knew, or at least suspected, that there was a vampire lair under here, why wouldn’t they just raid it?”  
  
“The house wards are potent, not to mention layered and how do I say— aged. They have permeated the area, and would be very difficult to disable. Not to mention that because it is a home— it does not have the same inherent protection a human dwelling would possess, but it is a dwelling nonetheless, and there is magic that comes with that. I doubt they could enter, even if they hired a sorcerer to try. Think about it, Hakyeon,” Taekwoon murmured, sliding him a glance. “It would be costly to try such a move, and very loud, magically, even a vampire would not sleep through such a thing. Not to mention raids provide a great deal of risk— and they rarely result in captured vampires, simply truly dead ones. Laying traps out is much easier, if they suspect there is only one, or two, vampires to be caught.”  
  
Hakyeon looked back down, at the shimmery outer edge of the circle. “We were seen.”  
  
“Most likely,” Taekwoon said, solemn. “This was the sort of trap that caught my master.”  
  
“How?” Hakyeon asked, gripping so hard on the cheap aluminum rain gutter it was beginning to dent.   
  
The set of Taekwoon’s mouth was grim. “He was not paying attention.” He stood, grabbing Hakyeon by the shoulder and pulling him back, away from the edge. “We should go, the area is empty but lingering would most likely be unwise.”  
  
“Go where?” Hakyeon asked, maybe a touch too loud. “What are we supposed to do? Ask Kyungsoo to magically seal off this entrance?”  
  
Taekwoon shook his head. “We could do that, but— I do not wish to trap ourselves in a home with only one exit. And I do not like that they know we live in this area. If they do not catch us within a few nights— my fear would be they would realize there is another exit, and go looking. If they’re truly ambitious, and have the finances for it, they could blanket every grate within a few blocks with similar sort of traps. It would depend on how much they desire to catch us, and such a move may not extend to the second exit, but— I do not wish to risk it.”   
  
“So what then?” Hakyeon said, holding his hands out in frustration. “What do we do?”  
  
Taekwoon took hold of one of Hakyeon’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “We shall have to move.”  
  
——  
  
His palm stung, and the blood ran down his bony wrist, over his arm. Ilhoon wondered why magic always involved so much blood. “Do I want to know what you needed it for?” he asked, pressing tissues to the slice on his palm.   
  
Kyungsoo was carefully putting a stopper in the vial of blood he’d collected. They were in his shop, crammed into the back workshop next to artifacts and charms that Ilhoon knew nothing of, and was only beginning to realize he would have to learn. “Blood has a great deal of raw energy in it,” he said. “I am going to put it through a little test to see if you have enough power in you to survive the initiation I have planned.”  
  
“You’re not going to set me on fire?” Ilhoon said, a little snappish, half hoping Kyungsoo would laugh and dismiss such an idea.  
  
Instead, Kyungsoo frowned, the set of his mouth somber. “That is an initiation for an eleven year old. You are grown.”  
  
Oh, great, so setting children on fire was par on course for sorcery. Ilhoon didn’t know why he was surprised.  
  
“I may be grown, but I’ve never been trained,” Ilhoon said, reaching for more tissues because the cut on his hand was still seeping. “You’re not _trying_ to kill me right? I know you didn’t want an apprentice, and like, sorry, but please don’t try and rectify it by murdering me.”  
  
Kyungsoo squinted at him, and Ilhoon grinned, though there was no humor in it, and it was possibly more on the side of a snarl. He knew he should respect Kyungsoo, who would be his master, his mentor, and that aside, just had a whole lot of power crammed into his little frame. But Ilhoon got rough around the edges when he was frightened, and he’d been frightened a lot lately.  
  
“I do not wish to kill you,” Kyungsoo said slowly. “An initiation is not that. It is to draw your power to the surface, though the circumstances which cause such a response from a magic handler are, by their nature, fatal for someone without magic— or not enough magic. The process varies— I am going to test you the same way I was tested by my master.”  
  
“And because this is all off the books, I am going to assume this test isn’t one of the government approved ones,” Ilhoon said, and Kyungsoo gave him a smile that was an echo of Ilhoon’s own. “Great.”  
  
“You can still back out,” Kyungsoo said, the candlelight flickering in his overlarge eyes.   
  
Ilhoon wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “No.”  
  
Kyungsoo gave a one shouldered shrug. “Then you’re going to have to learn to trust my judgement.” He looked at Ilhoon intently. “It will be in a few days, you should begin to prepare yourself.”  
  
“How—” Ilhoon began, but he could sense the wards of the shop reacting to a presence, and stopped. “A customer? Or a visitor?”  
  
Kyungsoo tilted his head, seemingly listening. “Both.”  
  
Ilhoon’s tattoos began to prickle, just a bit, and then he heard the bell at the front of the shop tinkle. After that his wards really began to burn, and his heart was sent hammering.  
  
Kyungsoo slid him a glance. “We’re going to have to do something about those tattoos,” he mumbled to himself, and then looked at the open workshop door just as their company was arriving.  
  
It was Hakyeon, the new Hakyeon, the dead Hakyeon. It was still jarring and almost grotesque, to see him as a vampire. Ilhoon wondered how Sanghyuk had gotten so used to it.  
  
Hakyeon stepped into the room, eyes wide, and he was followed by his maker, the dark brooding one Ilhoon vaguely remembered meeting before. He was striking, Ilhoon had never met a vampire so old, and the energy that rolled off him was almost tangible. Jaehwan had it as well, but not quite as thickly.   
  
Hakyeon was still so young, he still reacted, acted, human, at least in his features and speech patterns. Ilhoon could see he was shaken, though his master, lover — Taekwoon, Ilhoon remembered — showed little.  
  
Ilhoon had been sitting, but he stood, unable to stay in such a vulnerable position. Hakyeon looked at him, eyes ghosting over his form, lingering for a few seconds too long on his hand, the blood showing through the tissues held there. Ilhoon’s sunburst tattoo was almost hissing angrily.   
  
“Will you be alright with it?” Kyungsoo asked, gesturing at Ilhoon’s hand, and Hakyeon’s mouth twisted, the tips of his fangs flashing, but he nodded. “Then speak. What’s up?”  
  
“Our home appears to have been found,” Taekwoon said, and his voice did not match his aura at all, feathery and high and almost sweet. “A trap was laid for us, presumably by the VCF.”  
  
“There’s been an increase in patrols lately,” Hakyeon said, subdued. “We noticed, and we’ve been trying to keep our heads down— but I guess we were seen.”  
  
Ilhoon marveled at the play of emotions that flickered through him. He was no longer a hunter, but the instincts were still there, and usually a vampire dwelling being discovered would be met with a low burn of triumph. He wasn’t used to this, to being on the opposite side, and was somewhat offset by the frisson of unease that went through him at this news.   
  
Find vampires, kill vampires, but no, not _these_ vampires.  
  
Kyungsoo’s face was grim. “You got out, at least,” he said. “I assume the trap was a magical one.”  
  
Taekwoon simply nodded, while Hakyeon said, “Yes.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo said, and even though he didn’t put much inflection in the words, Ilhoon could tell he meant them. And he’d thought sorcerers were supposed to be neutral. “I am not sure, though, why you have come to me. Surely you must know removing the trap would be pointless— it would only confirm that there are, indeed, vampires living there, and would possibly make the VCF come back with more aggressive means.”  
  
“We are no longer safe there,” Taekwoon agreed, “and we do not intend to return. I have— others, other places we could live. The nearest one is a couple hours away, and it is small and has been empty for a prolonged period but— it shall do. The trouble is it is not properly warded, the protection on it is skeletal at best. For it to be safe—” It was fast, it was brief, but Taekwoon touched Hakyeon’s wrist lightly. “We shall need much more protection on it.”  
  
Kyungsoo leaned back against his spell table, brow heavily furrowed as he thought. “I don’t normally travel out of city.”  
  
“I know,” Hakyeon said quickly, “but we can pay—”  
  
“That’s the thing,” Kyungsoo interrupted. “I don’t think you can. If it were just this, maybe, but the both of you — Hakyeon especially — are very much already in debt to me. I am not worried about it, I know you intend to pay back what is owed, I trust you, but it is something to be considered.”  
  
“We can give blood,” Taekwoon said, utterly nonchalant about it, as if he’d offered to bring a casserole to a potluck. “I know Jaehwan pays you thus, more often than not.”  
  
“Your blood would prove great use to me,” Kyungsoo replied. “But Hakyeon is still too young, his blood is not potent enough nor valuable enough to make a dent in his debt.”   
  
Hakyeon pressed his lips together, nostrils flaring, while Taekwoon did not react, simply stared at Kyungsoo with an unnerving focus.  
  
After a moment of silence, Kyungsoo gusted out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I am magic, but I can’t fix everything always,” he said. “I’m sorry. This is— have you thought about moving into—”  
  
“I am not going to live with Jaehwan,” Hakyeon said, though he spoke through gritted teeth, fangs glinting in the low light.  
  
Taekwoon wrapped his arm around Hakyeon’s shoulders. “It is— an undesirable option.”  
  
“More undesirable than living in an unwarded sewer?” Kyungsoo asked, and Hakyeon _hissed_. It made the hairs on Ilhoon’s arms stand on end. “Consider it, Hakyeon. You’ll have to stay there for a while anyway, since you cannot return to your other home, and I wouldn’t be able to ward your new place for another week or so at least, because I am busy with commissions and this one.”   
  
Kyungsoo jerked his head in Ilhoon’s direction, and both Hakyeon and Taekwoon turned to look at him in tandem. Ilhoon fought to keep his head up, to not flinch. Hakyeon had been a force to be reckoned with even when human— as a vampire it was only compounded. Ilhoon was more afraid of him than his maker.   
  
Kyungsoo, on the other hand, seemed unfazed in the face of Hakyeon’s upset, and was continuing. “Actually, speaking of that,” Kyungsoo said, turning to a cupboard in the corner, “I was going to do this myself, but since you owe me a debt, Hakyeon, I could ask it of you instead.”  
  
Hakyeon looked downright mutinous “What?” he asked, still snarling it through his teeth, and Kyungsoo only smiled.   
  
Ilhoon had a bad feeling.  
  
——  
  
They had a fire going in the hearth, the light casting the bookshelves into sharp relief. Sanghyuk sat curled up with a book in his lap, while Jaehwan dozed on him, head pillowed on Sanghyuk’s thigh. Wonshik watched them, eyes following as Sanghyuk turned a page in his book, brow furrowed, and tried to pull apart the feelings inside of him. Mostly, he was content, and it would have to do, he supposed.   
  
Hongbin sat by Wonshik’s feet, sketching, using the coffee table as an easel. He was planning a new photo series, drawing thumbnails. Wonshik poked Hongbin’s thigh with his toe, and Hongbin turned to look at him for a moment, face scrunching up in mock-displeasure, and then he smiled before he went back to work.   
  
Wonshik looked back at his laptop screen, the brightness turned all the way down and still glaring to his eyes, and then he shut it decisively and put it on the table next to Hongbin’s sketchbook. “Should we go feed?” he asked the room at large.  
  
“I don’t need to,” Jaehwan said, not opening his eyes. “I’ve got my snack machine back.”  
  
“I will stake you,” Sanghyuk said idly, not even bothering to look up from his book. “If you do go out to feed, Wonshik, we need milk.”  
  
Hongbin snorted, and Wonshik poked him with his toe again, but a little harder this time, before standing.  
  
“I’m going to get some blood bags, if nothing else,” Wonshik said, stretching and then padding out of the room.   
  
He was in the hallway when he felt the wards ripple. “No one said Hakyeon was coming!” he shouted backwards, though nobody replied. He hadn’t expected anyone to.   
  
Wonshik detoured away from the kitchen, going to the open the front door. He reached it just before Hakyeon did, and when he pulled it open, they found themselves face to face.  
  
“Hey,” Wonshik said, smiling, “you didn’t—”  
  
Hakyeon stepped past him, a bit roughly, and Wonshik knew Hakyeon well enough to know he was in a fit. Taekwoon followed, and he didn’t exactly look happy either.  
  
“Okay.” Wonshik shut the door and followed them, wondering what Jaehwan had done this time.  
  
“Where is—” Hakyeon began, and Wonshik pointed down the hall.  
  
“Library,” Wonshik said cheerfully, refusing to let this dampen his mood.   
  
Wonshik held back his smile as he watched Hakyeon stomp down the hallway, all theatrics, though Taekwoon also seemed grim, which gave Wonshik pause. But then, Taekwoon often seemed grim.   
  
He followed the lovebirds back into the library, where none of the others had moved, though they must have felt the wards ripple.   
  
“Hey, Hakyeon,” Hongbin said, smiling as he looked up from his sketchbook. As he caught the look on Hakyeon’s face, he made a small, involuntary noise. It sounded kind of like _gack_.  
  
At the sound, Sanghyuk put his book down, and Jaehwan opened his eyes. “Who hemorrhaged all over your favorite shirt, Hakyeon?” Jaehwan asked.   
  
“I thought you must have done something,” Wonshik said, going over and sitting in his previous seat. Hongbin leaned back against his legs.  
  
Jaehwan sat up, something flickering over his face, something like fear, before he schooled it away. “What? I haven’t done anything, this time, I am sure of it.”  
  
“It’s not him,” Hakyeon said, hissing it out through gritted teeth, his jaw painfully clenched. “Not exactly.”  
  
“Our house has been discovered,” Taekwoon said softly, and a ripple went over them all, Sanghyuk gasping softly. “VCF. The wards prevented them from entering— but they laid a trap, at the main grate. It is no longer safe for us there.”  
  
Fear bubbled up in Wonshik. “If they— could they find us too?” he asked, touching Hongbin’s shoulder, trying to ground himself. “We’re not in the same city, but—”  
  
“There is always the risk,” Jaehwan said, frowning in thought, “but our home is better warded— they would be no more able to get past the grate than they could at Taekwoon’s. And this place was built by vampires, with the intent for it to be secure, so it is a bit more... fluid.”   
  
“What?” Sanghyuk asked.  
  
Jaehwan heaved a silent sigh, and he gestured at the fire roaring in the hearth. “The smoke goes out, but it is not visible from the surface, have you not wondered why?”  
  
“I figured, you know, magic,” Sanghyuk said lamely, and Wonshik nodded.   
  
“It is magic,” Taekwoon murmured. “This place is half in and half out.”  
  
“Half in and half out of where?” Wonshik asked.  
  
“Here and there,” Jaehwan said. “Everywhere and nowhere.”  
  
Sanghyuk was squinting, lip curled. “Not helpful.”  
  
“It’s—” Jaehwan began, then stopped. “It must occupy physical space, to a degree, but it also occupies imaginary space, no space, floaty space.”  
  
Sanghyuk shot a glance at Wonshik, who shrugged. He wasn’t a sorcerer, was never a sorcerer, and had no idea what Jaehwan was talking about.   
  
“You’re not making sense,” Hakyeon ground out.  
  
Jaehwan gestured vaguely. “All you need to know is, your old home was actually there, the tunnels that led to it were really underneath downtown, your home was below some poor sod’s bakery. This place is different. It isn’t exactly where it seems to be.”  
  
“Meaning?” Hongbin asked softly.  
  
“Meaning we can move it somewhere else, if the entrance was ever found,” Jaehwan said. “It would require assistance from a sorcerer or two— but it would be doable.”  
  
Wonshik looked around himself, at the stone walls and gargoyles, the heavy wooden shelves and high beams. He wondered where they truly were.   
  
“No wonder this tattoo hates it here,” Sanghyuk muttered, scratching at the oak tree tattoo on his forearm.  
  
Jaehwan slide him a sidelong glance. “It is safe.”  
  
“It is,” Taekwoon said. “Our home no longer is.”  
  
“We’ve nowhere else to go,” Hakyeon said, and it looked like it cost him to say it.   
  
It clicked then, for Wonshik, and for the others. “No,” Jaehwan moaned, and he flopped backwards, over the length of the couch. “No, you cannot move in. You have other properties elsewhere.”  
  
“They have next to no warding,” Taekwoon murmured, “and at present we are too indebted to Kyungsoo, and cannot afford to have them secured.”  
  
“You have plenty of room,” Hakyeon pointed out. He looked like he’d been made to swallow a bug. “I don’t want to live with you either.” He eyed the mantel, the candelabra in the shape of several intertwined serpents. “Or your godawful furnishings.”  
  
“This is my _home_ ,” Jaehwan lamented, and then he sat up quickly. “I will pay Kyungsoo, I will give him blood, or my leg. He can saw it right off.”  
  
“I do not think it works like that,” Taekwoon said, surprisingly calm, and Jaehwan scowled. “I offered him blood, he did not accept.”  
  
Jaehwan’s face twisted. “I do not want you here,” he said flatly. “Our relationship may be on the mend but— there is too much between us, in this house, and you know it.” Wonshik wondered what that meant, and by the look on his face, Hakyeon did as well.   
  
“That may be,” Taekwoon said, words clipped, “but we’ve been left with no choice. I inherited this place, just as much as you—”  
  
Jaehwan stood, and he seemed slightly angry, now, but Wonshik could see the undercurrent of fear below it. “This is not your home,” he spat, “it never was, you never wanted it. It is _mine_.”  
  
“It is our master’s tomb, you left it as such,” Taekwoon said. For the first time, Wonshik could hear emotion bleeding into his voice. “I do not seek to be reminded of him, which is the reason I left you with it. If you wish to cling to specters that is your choice, but I will not let your misplaced love of him threaten our safety.”  
  
“You left me with it well before,” Jaehwan said lowly. “You left when I was still new. Our master was all I had, you fucked off for the better part of a century. Don’t you dare look down on me. I had to _adjust_.”  
  
“You never adjusted,” Taekwoon countered, ungentle. “You simply buried everything, every uncomfortable truth. I— perhaps I should not have left you, but I despised him, and there was nothing for me to do while he still lived, so I left. And by the time he had died he had warped you beyond foreseeable repair.”  
  
“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk whispered, reaching out to grab Jaehwan’s wrist but Jaehwan pulled away, out of Sanghyuk’s reach.  
  
“Warped me,” Jaehwan echoed, sneering. “He was good to me, kind to me. You left, but he— he never gave up on me, though he had ample reason to. He helped me recover from the loss of my life.”  
  
The expressions mixed on Taekwoon’s face seemed to be a potent mixture of revulsion and pity. “He helped you recover after killing you in the first place.”  
  
“I asked him to,” Jaehwan said, his own face twisting. “I do not defend what he did to you, Taekwoon, you had ample reason to go. He should not have turned you without permission— but he was young and lonely, and learned. I was willing.”  
  
Taekwoon took a step forward, dangerous, but then reigned himself in. “He felt no regret, none, for what he did to me,” he breathed out. “His only regret was the energy wasted, as I never became loyal to him. He wished to turn someone who would be _his_ , the way I never was, and for that, he needed someone willing. He needed someone he could take everything from and then build them back up around him, and only him. He was never guilty, Jaehwan, only calculated, and he knew the pain he would inflict upon you in turning.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Jaehwan said, body trembling, hands fisted at his sides, “but it does not change the fact that I asked it of him.”  
  
“You did not ask to lose your magic.”  
  
Jaehwan snapped. “He did not know turning me would kill my powers!” he positively shrieked, and Sanghyuk startled at the volume. “I told him I wanted to turn to continue my practice, it was part of our deal. He hadn’t known.”  
  
Taekwoon did not match Jaehwan in volume, stayed upright and still as Jaehwan’s chest heaved. “Do you still believe that lie?” Taekwoon asked. Jaehwan stepped back like he’d been struck, lips twisting into a snarl.  
  
“Oh,” Sanghyuk whispered under his breath, and Jaehwan whirled on him. Sanghyuk sat back a little, recognizing danger when he saw it.  
  
“Oh?” Jaehwan repeated, voice gone silky low.   
  
“I’ve always wondered,” Sanghyuk murmured, “it just— it didn’t make sense.”  
  
“What?” Jaehwan snapped, voice still raised. “What didn’t make sense?”  
  
“It never made sense that a vampire as old as your maker wouldn’t have known that killing you would also cause your magic to die,” Sanghyuk mumbled. “And I always wondered if he hadn’t—” He stuttered off.  
  
“Finish,” Jaehwan spat out. “Say it.”  
  
Sanghyuk appeared to steel himself, and then he met Jaehwan’s eyes, chin up. “I wondered if he hadn’t done it on purpose, to break you, to make you utterly reliant on him.”  
  
Jaehwan sucked in a breath, and he stepped back, away from Sanghyuk, from all of them, like they were poisoned. “You’re wrong.”  
  
“Jaehwan—”  
  
“You’re _wrong_.”  
  
“You can't go through life _running_ anymore, Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said, distress creeping into his voice.  
  
“He shattered you on purpose, Jaehwan,” Taekwoon murmured, and Jaehwan whirled to look at him, hands curved into claws. “He’d hoped to do it to me— but I hadn’t lost enough, and proved too unwilling. He needed to find someone who was— happier, softer, with so much more to lose.”  
  
“He loved me,” Jaehwan said, desperation making his voice thready. He reminded Wonshik of an animal backed into a corner.   
  
Sanghyuk was pale, like he felt ill. “That isn’t love, Jaehwan.”  
  
“Isn’t it?” Jaehwan shot back, vicious. “I broke for you too. How is this any different.”  
  
Sanghyuk’s lips parted on a gasp, and Hongbin winced. Wonshik glanced at Hakyeon, who had the sort of resigned look on his face of a man who had well expected such an outcome.   
  
“I didn’t break you on purpose,” Sanghyuk whispered, voice trembling, “and you know it.”  
  
Jaehwan, for his part, seemed to have realized he’d fucked up. Much of the anger left him, leaving him almost visibly deflated. “Sanghyuk—”  
  
“Do you see it the same way?” Sanghyuk asked, and Wonshik was surprised to see a tear roll down his cheek. “Am I some sick, twisted replacement of a man who murdered you—”  
  
“No,” Jaehwan said, stepping forward quickly, reaching out, but Sanghyuk flinched away, so Jaehwan held back from cupping his face. Another tear rolled down Sanghyuk’s cheek. “No, no, you’re not him, I’ve never thought you were. My feelings for you are separate, and utterly different—”  
  
“Because you never loved our master, not truly,” Taekwoon murmured, very softly. Jaehwan glanced at him and hissed, an exhalation of air through his teeth. Taekwoon was unfazed. “You need to think, Jaehwan, really think, no more hiding. If you’re going to defend our master, then I want you, for a moment, to imagine if he were still alive.” Taekwoon gestured at Sanghyuk, a small movement. “I want you to imagine what you and I both know he’d have done, to Sanghyuk.”  
  
Jaehwan visibly blanched, and he pressed his hands over his stomach, like he was holding himself in, holding himself together. He stared down, at the carpet for a long minute, eyes glazed over.   
  
Sanghyuk was wiping at his face, trying to be quiet, but Wonshik could see him shaking, could see how upset he was. Hakyeon met Wonshik’s eyes, and it was clear they both wanted to go to him, comfort him, but the moment was too fragile.  
  
Finally, Jaehwan closed his eyes, hands clenching in the material of his shirt. When he opened his eyes again, he looked at Taekwoon, gaze matching Taekwoon’s in intensity. “You’re right. I apologize,” Jaehwan said. Wonshik blinked in shock, as did Hakyeon, and at his feet, Hongbin went tense for a moment.   
  
A pause, while he waited for Taekwoon’s response, and Taekwoon took a few seconds, but he nodded.  
  
Jaehwan nodded back, shortly, and Wonshik knew they would talk later, but for right now Jaehwan turned to kneel beside Sanghyuk, still keeping his hands to himself. “Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan said softly, and Sanghyuk’s mouth twisted.  
  
“You treat every relationship like a war to be won,” Sanghyuk whispered. “Every conversation like you’re— you’re trying to slice the other person down. But you can’t, you can’t. That isn’t what it is. And I can’t do this for eternity, Jaehwan, I just fucking can’t.”  
  
Jaehwan went still, eyes widening. When he spoke, his voice trembled. “You're changing your mind?”  
  
“No,” Sanghyuk gasped, fresh tears spilling out. “No, I’m not. I am just saying: I cannot do this for eternity.” He was staring into Jaehwan’s face, eyes searching. “Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaehwan said softly after a pause. “Yes, I do. It— I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I will try, Sanghyuk. I can promise that.”   
  
Sanghyuk nodded, accepting it. “Okay.”  
  
Jaehwan reached out to touch him, and this time, Sanghyuk let him. He wiped at Sanghyuk’s cheeks, whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, love. I was wrong.”  
  
Hongbin twisted, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows at Wonshik. Hakyeon still looked sour, but Wonshik and Hongbin understood the gravity of this. For Jaehwan to step back, admit he was wrong, apologize— apologize in front of Hakyeon and Taekwoon— it was a big step.   
  
He wouldn’t have done it a few months ago. In many ways, Wonshik shared Hakyeon’s worries, that Jaehwan had changed, but not enough, that he’d ruin Sanghyuk. He might still, yet, but if he did, he’d hate himself for it. Sanghyuk had made sure of that, had dug himself into Jaehwan deeply, possibly even more deeply than his maker had.  
  
And his maker had been trying.  
  
“You can move in,” Jaehwan said, speaking to Taekwoon and Hakyeon but still wiping gently at Sanghyuk’s cheeks. “If you must, you can, but please, no more talk of our master.”  
  
Hakyeon looked to Taekwoon, anger heavy in his posture. “Agreed,” Taekwoon murmured, and Hakyeon threw one last glance at Sanghyuk and Jaehwan before he left the room.  
  
Wonshik winced as he did it, but he raised himself up, intending to follow. He met Taekwoon’s eyes as he left the room, and Taekwoon seemed relieved Wonshik was moving to handle this. “Thanks,” Wonshik muttered under his breath.  
  
Hakyeon didn’t seem to be going towards the living room, but rather had fled deeper into the house. Wonshik was faster than him, and it didn’t take long for him to have Hakyeon in sight.  
  
“Hakyeon,” Wonshik called, catching up to his friend when they were around a corner of the hallway. “Hakyeon—”  
  
Hakyeon whirled around, fangs extended, eyes wild. “What?”  
  
Wonshik stopped short, not knowing exactly what to say. “Don’t kill Jaehwan,” he said, lamely, and Hakyeon fell back a little, visibly trying to calm himself.  
  
“I couldn’t anymore even if I tried, our blood bond is too strong,” Hakyeon said. “He’d deserve it though.”  
  
Wonshik opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn’t think Jaehwan deserved it, but he did understand, why Hakyeon felt the way he did. “A few months ago,” Wonshik said slowly, “when me and Hongbin tried to talk sense into him, he threw a pair of crystal candelabras at us, put a real good dent in the wall.”  
  
Hakyeon looked around them, as if searching for something. “And?” he asked, hands out, palm up. “Is that supposed to make me feel less like he deserves a silver stake up the ass?”  
  
“Maybe not,” Wonshik conceded. “But Hakyeon— he has changed, from that. He’s still not perfect, he’s been toxic for too long. It’s going to take a while to wash out of his system— but he didn’t throw anything, he didn’t throw anything and he backed down and apologized. And he actually meant it, Hakyeon, surely you saw it too.”  
  
“I did,” Hakyeon said, “but it still doesn’t make it okay.”  
  
“I’m not saying it does. I’m saying that he’s trying, he’s making progress, and he’s getting better— and so long as he is working towards bettering himself, I am not going to condemn him. That isn’t helpful, not to him, nor the rest of us.”  
  
Hakyeon lowered his head, gaze going to the floor. “You sound like Hongbin.”  
  
“In other words, I sound right,” Wonshik said, smiling dryly.   
  
Hakyeon glared at him. “Yes,” he bit out. “I’m trying, you know, for Sanghyuk, I want to forgive Jaehwan, maybe even like him, but he’s— he doesn’t make it easy. He’s too much of a bastard.”  
  
Wonshik shrugged. “Maybe you’ll start seeing his charms after you’ve been living here a while and have been exposed to him more,” he said, and Hakyeon made a face. “It’s not bad here, Hakyeon, it really isn’t, especially not lately.”  
  
“I don’t _want_ to move,” Hakyeon said, sadness evident in his voice. He took in the hallway, the wallpaper and paintings hung up. “This is such a grim place. The misery has sunk into the walls.”  
  
Wonshik looked around in turn. He’d called this place home for years now, and it no longer felt as depressing as it once did— but Hakyeon was right, there was an air of misery, and it would take more time to wash it out. “Honestly I— I don’t know a lot about Jaehwan and Taekwoon’s maker, so I don’t know much of this place’s history. Tonight has been the largest block of information I’ve ever gotten. It doesn’t paint a nice picture.”  
  
Hakyeon _hmm_ ed in agreement. “Taekwoon rarely speaks of their maker, obviously because it is a sore subject. I knew he had turned Taekwoon against his will, which was enough of a reason to despise him, but if he did to Jaehwan what it seems he did— well. It makes one wonder.”  
  
“Wonder what?”  
  
“What else we don’t know,” Hakyeon said grimly.


	5. Chapter 5

The moonlight shone brightly through the tall crystalline windows, freshly cleaned now that the frost of winter had finally faded. Jaehwan had lit a few candles here and there, and their twinkling light glinted off the jars and vials around him prettily, their translucent contents casting colored shadows on the walls.  
  
This was the room he’d chosen to meet the vampire in, so here he waited, hands cupped around his brandy snifter, leg shaking with nerves.   
  
Normally he had a staunch rule about keeping alcohol out of his workspace— salamander and spirits did not mix, and he’d let many of his depravities seep into nearly every other aspect of his life. He did not want to ruin this part of himself. But tonight, tonight he was allowing himself a little leeway.   
  
He took a gulp of his brandy, warmed from his hands against the glass, and it burned at the back of his throat.   
  
It was after midnight. The vampire should have been here by now. Perhaps the creature had gotten lost. Jaehwan hoped not, he wasn’t sure he had the courage to go through this again.  
  
A breeze gusted by, and it caused the curtains to billow, the bushes in the garden outside swaying. The flames of the candles flickered, making the shadows around the walls dance. One went out, and Jaehwan’s stomach dropped, his fingertips feeling buzzy with energy. The house wards fizzled back at him.   
  
When the breeze gentled and the curtains settled back, there was a figure, silhouetted in the window. Jaehwan jerked, almost slopping brandy over his trousers, and caught himself before he could make more of a noise than a sharp gasp as he inhaled.   
  
“You—” Jaehwan said, stammering, “you’re—”  
  
“It is rather rude, to have a conversation thus, is it not?” the vampire asked, indicating the fact that he was currently standing lazily on a window ledge. The candlelight illuminated his features, showing his mouth curved in amusement. He was slim and looked young, as young as Jaehwan, maybe even younger. He’d probably been lovely, as a human, and in death he’d turned into something still entrancing, but also haunting. “It is only proper to invite guests in, after all.”  
  
Jaehwan swallowed, and the vampire’s grin widened. He should not be so skittish, there was power in him, power that could give this creature pause. “Yes,” he said, trying to collect his composure, “yes, of course, apologies. Please come in.”  
  
The vampire stepped inside, smooth and unbearably graceful. He almost seemed to float. Jaehwan set his brandy aside, wishing to have both hands free in case— in case.  
  
The house wards were not happy with the intrusion, but they were often finicky, even when Jaehwan was working. He hoped his family wouldn’t think much of it, wouldn’t try to investigate. He’d locked the door, but he did not like the risk.  
  
The creature was gazing around, wandering in a circle around Jaehwan as he examined the vials and Jaehwan, in turn. His gaze was heavy on Jaehwan’s body. “Jaehwan,” the vampire said, and Jaehwan held back a shiver. “You’re a sorcerer?”  
  
“Yes,” Jaehwan said, turning as the vampire continued to move in a slow circle around him. “I’ve attended Artemis’ Academy for ten years.”  
  
“You’re quite pretty, for a sorcerer,” the vampire said, and he reached towards one of the candles, pinching the flame between his thumb and forefinger and snuffing it out. “And an accomplished one, if Seokjin is to be believed.”   
  
“Better than he is,” Jaehwan said, and the vampire laughed. The sound was painful, grating, and this time Jaehwan couldn’t repress a shiver.   
  
“And working with blood magic,” the vampire said, running his fingertip over a small wooden box on Jaehwan’s desk. “Don’t look so alarmed, sweetling, word gets around.”  
  
That was the problem, wasn’t it. “I’ve been doing some experiments,” Jaehwan said cagily, watching as the vampire snuffed out another candle, leaving only two left. The room had been dim before, but now it was unnervingly dark.  
  
“They’ll kill you for it,” the vampire murmured, smiling again. Another candle out.  
  
“Yes,” Jaehwan agreed, his eyes struggling to adjust, to keep the vampire in focus. “That is why I want to turn— that and because if I were vampire, it would make studying aspects of blood easier.”  
  
The vampire hummed, a very alien sort of sound coming from such a creature. “I wish to have a child,” he said, and he stopped circling Jaehwan in favor of stepping forward, putting himself within arm’s reach. Jaehwan’s heart kicked up a notch, and he could feel sweat beading along his brow. “I have one already— but he did not suit my needs.”  
  
Jaehwan knew there would be a price to pay. “What would you want from me?”  
  
The vampire reached out, and Jaehwan might have stepped back, but he was pressed against his heavy work table, nowhere to go. He gripped the edge of the table as the vampire touched his jaw lightly for a moment, before his fingertips ghosted down the side of Jaehwan’s neck, toying at the collar of his shirt.  
  
“Companionship,” the vampire breathed, and Jaehwan’s legs almost buckled.  
  
“You mean sex,” he said, and the vampire smiled, a smile that was a bit sharper than it had been before.  
  
“That would be part of it,” the vampire said, and he pulled back, pulled away, and Jaehwan felt like he could breathe, again. “But mostly I have simply felt rather lonely, and would like a companion. A lover.”  
  
Jaehwan wet his lips nervously. He wasn’t sure about this, but where would he get another offer, before his time ran out. “I could— I could be a companion, but affection cannot be forced, nor guaranteed,” he said.   
  
The vampire made a small noise of assent. “Of course, it must come naturally, but I think it will,” he said. “You’re exactly what I have been searching for.”  
  
There was an intensity in his tone that frightened Jaehwan, a little. Though perhaps, he was simply frightened in general. He was making a deal with the devil. “I would try to be good for you.”  
  
“Oh, sweetling,” the vampire whispered, his fangs flashing in the low light, “I am sure you will.”  
  
——  
  
Sanghyuk woke early, head aching and eyes dry. When he moved to slip out of bed, Jaehwan grabbed his wrist, the hold loose.  
  
“Love,” Jaehwan whispered huskily, his eyes fluttering open.  
  
“I’ll come right back,” Sanghyuk murmured, feeling weary for all that he had just woken up from resting. “I just want to splash some water on my face.”  
  
Jaehwan let go, blinking slowly, and Sanghyuk hobbled to their ensuite bathroom. After a second of hesitation, he shut the door behind himself, but he did not lock it.  
  
He turned the faucet on and waited for the icy water to warm up before wetting his hands and then pressing them to his sore eyes. In truth, he hadn’t cried much, but he seemed to feel the effects of it much more strongly, as he got older.  
  
Sanghyuk looked down at his hands. He still had a bandage around his wrist, for support, but the gauze had come off a few days ago, and the scabs under his nails were beginning to flake. His ankle still didn’t like taking his weight, it tended to throb, but he was healing. The bruises on his face were mostly yellow now, yellow and green.   
  
Soon, he’d be good as new, physically. He hadn’t wanted to be turned in a cast.  
  
He cupped his hands under the water and splashed some on the rest of his face, running his hands over his hair to brush it back off his face. Droplets caught on his lashes, and he blinked them away.   
  
By the time he came out of the bathroom he felt a little more together, and a lot more alert.  
  
Jaehwan had spiked his temperature up in anticipation, and when Sanghyuk slid under the blankets the warmth was welcoming. “Are you awake?” Sanghyuk asked, not laying down but rather choosing to sit up in the bed, the blanket draped over his legs, his hips.  
  
“Yes,” Jaehwan said, though he didn’t open his eyes nor sit up.  
  
Sanghyuk reached out, brushing Jaehwan’s chestnut hair out of his eyes. “We need to talk about last night.”  
  
Jaehwan winced and made a small, broken noise. “Must we?” he asked.   
  
“I’ve been meaning to tackle the issue of your maker for a long time,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan opened his eyes so he could look up at Sanghyuk. “I knew it was going to be the one you fought me the most on, so I kept putting it off, but— it needs to be taken care of at some point.”  
  
“I am sorry,” Jaehwan said, swallowing thickly. “I didn’t mean what I said, you know I didn’t.”  
  
“I—” Sanghyuk began. “There are similarities, in ways, and I worry, that you’re getting lines crossed that shouldn’t be.” Jaehwan sat up a bit, propping himself up on an elbow, fear playing in his pretty eyes. “What you said— I’m not your maker, but I’m worried, that you’re seeing ghosts of him, in me. Even if it is all projection. And that both frightens me and— and makes me feel ill.”  
  
Jaehwan looked away. “I turned,” he whispered, “and then I broke, and he built me back up, and my new self centered around him. And without him— I sought to— I don’t know. Emulate him, so I wouldn’t have truly lost him, so I wouldn’t crumple again. He’d been my pillar for so long.” He seemed to grow smaller, to hunch in on himself, hands held near to his body. “And then you were there, and I fell for you and broke again— and then you built me back up, and now everything in me revolves around you.”  
  
Sanghyuk hated this. “No wonder you were so angry with me, back when you were first falling,” he murmured. Jaehwan’s eyes flickered back up to meet his. “You know, Jaehwan, deep down, you know it was all calculated, on your maker’s part. You know he broke you on purpose, you know he put you back together in such a way that you’d be the child he wanted. That’s why you— why you were so— you thought I was the same, even if it was subconscious.”  
  
Jaehwan had stopped breathing, but he inhaled, to speak. “Perhaps,” he whispered. “But I know the— the similarities are on me.” He reached out, touching his fingertips to the back of Sanghyuk’s hand. “I’ve never thought you were him— I didn’t love him the same way I love you. He was a mentor, he guided me, you’re— we’re more on even footing, proper lovers. He— I— I loved him for survival, because if I didn’t, I would not have been able to move past the agony of the loss of my magic. It was a different sort of bond. If anything I — as you said — subconsciously saw what I perceived to be similar behavior patterns, between the two of you. And it frightened me.”  
  
Sanghyuk pulled his hand out from under Jaehwan’s and Jaehwan looked hurt for a flash, but then Sanghyuk was carding his hand through Jaehwan’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp. “You’re such a convoluted creature,” Sanghyuk murmured. “You wouldn’t let anyone speak ill of your maker, and yet, you were afraid I would turn out to be like him.”  
  
Jaehwan pushed up into Sanghyuk’s touch, like a cat. “You did not know him,” Jaehwan whispered. “He— he made me feel so whole and so loved and so wanted, and yet so worthless and replaceable at the same time. I was always performing, acting, for his affection, I was _desperate_ for it, which was a weakness on my part. Perhaps he saw it, for he was always tightly controlled, gave me praise and care in pieces that kept me craving for it and crawling back for more.”   
  
“I think it was all very deliberate, Jaehwan.” Sanghyuk kept scratching at Jaehwan’s hair, rubbing soothing circles over his temples. “He sounds abusive,” he murmured, and Jaehwan snorted.  
  
“Hardly,” Jaehwan muttered. “He never raised a hand to me.”  
  
“Abuse doesn’t have to be physical, Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan’s bafflement shone through his eyes. “He battered you emotionally.”  
  
Jaehwan paused, thinking, and then shook his head, dislodging Sanghyuk’s hand. “If he abused me then that would mean, in turn, that I had abused you.”  
  
Sanghyuk raised his eyebrow. “Well,” he said. “You did. Why do you think Hakyeon dislikes you so much? Your past actions— they go beyond simply being bad behavior.”  
  
Jaehwan blinked, lips parting on an exhale. “Ah,” he said. “ _Ah_. Fuck.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Sanghyuk murmured, “I understand why, in retrospect, you were the way you were. And you’ve put in efforts to apologize and make amends. It doesn’t fix it, but— it makes it so we can move forward.”  
  
Sanghyuk could see Jaehwan swallowing, throat working desperately as tears welled in his eyes. “I tried so hard to become him,” Jaehwan said thickly. “Because he seemed strong, powerful, and incapable of feeling pain. I forgot— I forgot what it was like, to be on the other end of it.”  
  
He sniffled, and Sanghyuk held his hand, entwining their fingers together. “I told you— it’s okay,” he said gently. “So long as you keep moving forward, it’s okay. It’s why— why last night can’t happen again.”  
  
“Because it’s not me,” Jaehwan said numbly, a single tear falling down his cheek, “it’s him, bleeding through again.”  
  
Sanghyuk put a finger under Jaehwan’s chin, tipping his face up. “You’re not him, Jaehwan,” he said. “You don’t have to be, to get through. You are strong enough to leave him behind.”  
  
Jaehwan’s mouth twisted, his lip trembling. “He held me,” he whispered, “when I wept over the loss of my magic, he held me, and he apologized, told me the guilt was unbearable. He said he’d never be able to forgive himself.”   
  
“Do you believe that?” Sanghyuk asked, and his own voice was thick now, wetness as the corners of his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me, Jaehwan. Or yourself. Not with me here.”  
  
After a long moment, Jaehwan shook his head. “No,” he gasped, another tear falling, “no, I don’t believe it, but— it’s vile, to think otherwise— I can’t—”  
  
“You don’t have to,” Sanghyuk said, fervent. He moved his hand, cupping the side of Jaehwan’s face. “You don’t have to, not right now.”  
  
Despite what he’d said, the words kept tumbling out, like Jaehwan couldn’t stop them. “I let him put his hands on me,” he sobbed. “I— we made a deal, he’d turn me, because I wished it, but in return, I had to give him companionship. It wasn’t his fault I’d lost my magic, he hadn’t known, he’d fulfilled his part of the deal— I had to—”  
  
“Jaehwan—”  
  
“I owed him— I’d been a sorcerer— I took such bindings seriously—”  
  
“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said, loudly, shaking Jaehwan a little, “this is something that is going to take a lot of time to reconcile. it’s a lot, it’s so much, he—”  
  
“Don’t,” Jaehwan said urgently, “don’t don’t don’t.” He slumped forward, curling against Sanghyuk and breathing heavily, shoulders trembling. Sanghyuk didn’t know what to do, could only hold him.  
  
After a prolonged silence, once his breathing had steadied, Jaehwan whispered, “I told myself I wasn’t Taekwoon.”  
  
That caught Sanghyuk off guard. “What?”  
  
“I told myself I wasn’t Taekwoon,” Jaehwan repeated. “Taekwoon— he didn’t adjust either, he never moved on from the loss of his own life. He never— molded to the vampire way.” Jaehwan’s hand curled into the material of Sanghyuk’s shirt. “That is what our master said. Taekwoon had been unwilling, in every aspect, but I— I always was willing. I turned willingly, I laid beneath my master willingly, I was never forced. And so I wouldn’t share Taekwoon’s weakness.”  
  
Sanghyuk felt like there was ice water trickling over him, felt chilled to the core. “You weren’t willing,” he murmured, “for the things that actually happened. You can’t think you were— not when your maker lied to you, about everything.”  
  
“I don’t want to be Taekwoon,” Jaehwan mumbled. “I don’t want to think of myself that way.”  
  
There were many things Sanghyuk could say, but he did not feel any of them were right. The implications of Jaehwan’s words were horrifying. “Jaehwan, you’re not Taekwoon, you— you don’t have to think of yourself in any way, not until you’re ready. If you’re ever ready. You just— you need to realize what your maker did was wrong, the way he treated you was wrong. You need to stop defending him, both to others and yourself. You’re doing yourself an injustice.”  
  
Jaehwan was hiccuping with sobs, and Sanghyuk brought him nearer, held him against his chest. “I’m sorry,” Jaehwan whimpered, “for what I did to you. I’m sorry.”  
  
Sanghyuk rubbed Jaehwan’s back, smoothing his hand along his spine. He no longer felt right, reassuring Jaehwan that it was okay, and it took him a few moments to collect his thoughts.  
  
“You’re going to be my maker soon,” Sanghyuk murmured, and Jaehwan shuddered. “I trust you, to keep moving forward, so you don’t go back to being him.” He paused again. “And so I don’t turn into you.”  
  
Suddenly, Jaehwan stilled, which made Sanghyuk stutter. The abrupt lack of movement was jarring.   
  
“Jaehwan?” Sanghyuk asked.  
  
“I wonder if he ever truly loved me,” Jaehwan said slowly. He twisted in Sanghyuk’s arms so he could look up at him. “Do you think he did?”  
  
“I can’t say for sure, but no, it doesn’t seem like he did.”  
  
Jaehwan’s gaze had gone unfocused. “I can’t imagine hurting you, the way he hurt me, or Taekwoon. Not deliberately, anyway. If he’d loved me as he said he did, he wouldn’t have done it.”  
  
“Sometimes we hurt those we love without meaning to,” Sanghyuk said. “But I think he meant to.”  
  
Jaehwan didn’t move, just seemed like he was deep inside himself, processing. Sanghyuk let him.   
  
Finally, he seemed to shake himself, blinking. “I’m glad he’s dead,” Jaehwan said, jaw tightening. “I’m going to try, from now on, to make sure he stays that way.”  
  
Sanghyuk swallowed thickly. “I love you, you know.”  
  
“Even now?” Jaehwan asked.  
  
“Yes,” Sanghyuk said gently. “Even now.”  
  
——  
  
“I hate this,” Hakyeon said, arms crossed over his narrow chest.  
  
There were bags, heaping bags, strewn over their living room floor, piled atop the maroon couch. Hongbin was poking at them, while Taekwoon hovered nearby, silent as usual.  
  
“Hate what?” Wonshik asked, dumping the contents of one of the plastic bags out over the floor and making Hakyeon squawk. “Plundering unsuspecting super stores for underwear?”  
  
“Hate that we had to plunder a store because we can’t go back and get our things,” Hakyeon said, picking up jeans and shirts from the floor. “Stop touching my stuff!” He grabbed a bag from Wonshik’s hands.   
  
“It’s not like you paid for it,” Wonshik pointed out.  
  
“You could always run around naked,” Hongbin said. He was nosing through a different bag, pulling out sweaters too large for Hakyeon and thus, most likely, for Taekwoon. At the look Hakyeon shot him, Hongbin added, “What? It’s not like we get cold. And maybe if you were running around naked, you’d be less inclined to let yourself be seen.”  
  
Hakyeon tossed a shoe at Hongbin. “I resent that. We were always careful. It was just bad luck. It isn’t _fair_.”  
  
“Life isn’t fair,” Wonshik said, rifling through another bag, before stuttering to a stop. “Uh.”  
  
Hongbin looked over to see what had caused Wonshik’s pause, and then he made a small noise of glee. “What is this?” Hongbin asked, reaching into the bag and pulling out a pair of packaged stockings, black and sheer.   
  
Hakyeon made a noise, jerking forward to snatch them out of Hongbin’s hands. Behind him, Taekwoon looked as uncomfortable as Wonshik had ever seen him.  
  
“You can never tease me for the maid costume again,” Wonshik said, and Hakyeon shot him a dark look, shoving the stockings back into the bag.  
  
“This is why I like having my own home,” Hakyeon snapped. “I feel like I am— am— moving into a well populated crypt.”  
  
Hakyeon stalked past them, heading for the hallway, muttering under his breath.   
  
Tentatively, Taekwoon began to pick up the items that had fallen to the floor, tucking them back into their bags. “He is distraught at the loss of our home,” Taekwoon murmured. “He felt safe there, and I think Hakyeon is the type who greatly values such a comfort.”  
  
“Hakyeon is a nester, yeah.” Wonshik said, feeling slightly ashamed for teasing him. “It’s— going to be different, having the both of you here.”  
  
“I think,” Taekwoon said, “it shall take some accommodation on all our parts.” He nodded at them and picked up several bags before heading down the hallway after Hakyeon.   
  
Wonshik waited, counting to ten, before gusting out a sigh. Hongbin threaded their arms together, a slight smile playing about his lips. “What a strange situation,” Hongbin said, “that of all our friends, you and I have the more functional relationship.”  
  
Wonshik snorted, and then found himself laughing, loudly. He turned, looking down at Hongbin fondly. “I’ve always been functional,” he reminded him. “It was you, you were the dysfunctional aspect of our relationship even before turning.”  
  
“Watch it,” Hongbin said, frowning for a moment before he broke into a smile, his dimples making an appearance.   
  
“Do you think it’ll be alright?” Wonshik asked. “All of us together?”  
  
“With time,” Hongbin said, looking back towards the hallway. “Did Hakyeon tell you he has a mission from Kyungsoo? I think that is adding to his, uh, temper.”  
  
“He didn’t, no,” Wonshik said. Hongbin widened his eyes theatrically at him. “What does Kyungsoo want from him?”  
  
Hongbin shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s probably not something fun— it has to do with Ilhoon’s initiation. He’ll be going out later to take care of it, apparently.”  
  
“Hopefully he’ll be gone by the time Jaehwan and Sanghyuk come out,” Wonshik said. “They’ve slept in late today.”  
  
Hongbin pulled away, grabbing at the bags on the floor and shoving them onto the couch. “I think they need time. For all that they’ve been bouncing off one another for over two years, I think they’re only recently truly coming to know one another.”  
  
“That thought is frightening,” Wonshik said, “considering Sanghyuk has decided to die for him.”  
  
“You died for me,” Hongbin reminded him. Wonshik opened his mouth to argue that it had been different, but Hongbin spoke over him. “You died for me and you didn’t know if I would ever recover, and if I did, if I would accept vampirism, or accept you, as a vampire.”  
  
“It was an impulsive and rash decision,” Wonshik said. He could hardly remember his own mindset at the time, he had been so out of it with grief and despair. “It just happened to work out.”  
  
Hongbin smiled softly, walking towards the kitchen. “I think,” he called over his shoulder, “that if Sanghyuk survives turning, it will work out, in the end.”  
  
Wonshik watched him walk away and could only hope Hongbin would prove right, in the end, as he so often did.   
  
——  
  
All the bags had been brought in, piled at the side of the door. Hakyeon stared at them and the dressers in turn, the armoire and desk. The room they’d chosen was particularly large, and it had a fireplace in it to boot, its mantle decorated with small gargoyles that Hakyeon was going to chisel the fuck off.  
  
“We should have got a new bedspread too,” he muttered, eyeing the grand bed, all dark wood, with crimson and gold duvet and pillows. “I feel like I have time travelled.”  
  
“I rather feel any modern furnishings would clash terribly,” Taekwoon said, coming to stand by Hakyeon’s side and wrapping an arm around his waist. “If we stay here a while, we can steadily replace everything, if you wish.”  
  
Hakyeon sighed, leaning against Taekwoon’s solid weight. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I know— it must be harder for you, than it is for me. Being back here.”  
  
For a moment, Taekwoon’s lips pressed together. “It is not something I would have wished,” Taekwoon said simply. “But— Jaehwan currently resides in our master’s old room, and Hongbin and Wonshik in mine. This was never a room I dwelled in— so there are no memories, not in here.”  
  
“Do you think we’ll ever be able to go back and at least get some of our things?” Hakyeon asked, ashamed of how small and childish he sounded. “The clothes are replaceable, but there are a few things I don’t want to lose forever.” Things like old photos of himself with Hongbin and Wonshik, and then beyond, of himself and Sanghyuk, and the precious few he had of his family. Not to mention Taekwoon’s books, their writing.   
  
“In several months, once the trap has faded and they have lost interest, I think it would be relatively safe to pop in and grab some things,” Taekwoon said, soothing. He rubbed a hand over Hakyeon’s back. “Once we settle in here properly it won’t feel so foreign.” He paused. “And we are together.”  
  
Hakyeon softened, a little, and he turned to look up at Taekwoon’s face. “We are, we’re together, safe,” he murmured. Taekwoon leaned forward and kissed Hakyeon’s forehead, and Hakyeon exhaled softly.  
  
“Shall we— unpack?” Taekwoon asked, motioning to the bags.   
  
“It’s after midnight,” Hakyeon said, knowing he had other matters to attend to. Matters he was magically bound to resolve. “We need to head out, see if we can get this done, for Kyungsoo.” He smiled at Taekwoon, a bit grimly. “Then we can come back and put things away.”  
  
Taekwoon tugged at some of Hakyeon’s hair, moving it out of his eyes. “It won’t be that bad,” he said. “It is more of a nuisance than anything, tromping about in the woods.”  
  
“Oh, I know,” Hakyeon said. “If I was still human I’d be a lot more worried, as it is I am more— annoyed.”  
  
Hakyeon could see Taekwoon holding back a smile. “Shall we head out and get this vexing business over with?”  
  
“Yeah,” Hakyeon sighed, and he stepped away from Taekwoon, heading for the door. “But first, I want to check on Sanghyuk very quickly.”  
  
“Mm,” Taekwoon said, and Hakyeon could hear the warning even in such a small sound.  
  
“I’ll be good,” he huffed, and walked quickly down the hall, to where he remembered Jaehwan’s bedroom to be. When he reached the door, he raised his hand to knock, but stopped himself. They were, perhaps, still sleeping, and if that were the case he wouldn’t want to wake them. Sanghyuk deserved to rest. But then on the other side of things, Hakyeon didn’t want to simply burst in, in case they were— in case.  
  
In the end he pressed his ear to the door, listening hard, and could hear nothing other than the slow, steady beat of Sanghyuk’s heart, faded through the charms on the door. So, they were most likely sleeping still.  
  
Hakyeon turned the knob, found the door unlocked, and slowly cracked it open, poking his head in.   
  
Sanghyuk was semi-reclined on the bed, propped up by pillows and still tucked under the blankets, and he was quite awake. He looked at Hakyeon as he came in, but made no move to get up. That was possibly because Jaehwan was sprawled atop him, his head resting half on Sanghyuk’s chest and half on his stomach, an arm draped lazily across his hips. Jaehwan, as opposed to Sanghyuk, appeared to be dozing. Though it was clear that an effort had been made to wipe it off, he had blood on his face, streaked across his cheeks.   
  
Hakyeon approached the bed slowly, making an effort to be quiet, and Sanghyuk’s hands tightened on Jaehwan, possessive, as possessive as Jaehwan ever was of him.   
  
“It’s late,” Hakyeon said, softly, “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”  
  
Sanghyuk’s stiff posture relaxed, just a little. “I’m okay, Hakyeon,” he whispered. He ran his hand over Jaehwan’s hair, smoothing it down. “We just had some things to talk about.”  
  
Hakyeon looked down, at Jaehwan’s face, the dried blood on his skin and the slackness of his mouth, expression peaceful. In slumber, it occurred to Hakyeon just how very young Jaehwan looked. Of course he wasn’t, he was three hundred years old, but it had never been as stark, before. Jaehwan always had a smirk on his lip, a quirk in his brow.  
  
“He’s not always the way he is around you, you know,” Sanghyuk murmured, and Hakyeon twitched, a little. It was like Sanghyuk had read Hakyeon’s mind. “He’s sweet, when he forgets himself and stops trying to one up everyone around him.”  
  
Hakyeon’s face twisted, not quite sure if he believed Jaehwan was _sweet_ , but not willing to argue the point either. “He was crying,” he whispered. “It’s still strange, to me, to see him cry.”  
  
Sanghyuk gave a wobbly smile. “He’s very sensitive, even if he can be an ass. A lot of times, that is why he is an ass. He lashes out to try and protect himself.” His hand kept stroking over Jaehwan’s hair, gentle, intimate. “Before you say anything, I know it doesn’t make it okay. And he knows it too. We’re working on it.”  
  
Hakyeon recalled the previous night, Jaehwan with teeth bared, cutting, sharp, and then the dawn of the realization. The apology. An apology genuinely meant, as opposed to an apology meant to satisfy someone else, to further his own agenda.   
  
“We pushed him into a corner too fast, the lot of us, it probably wasn’t fair, to gang up on him like that,” Hakyeon said, and Sanghyuk looked surprised. It made Hakyeon feel slightly ashamed. “I don’t approve of how he reacted, but it is Jaehwan. We should have expected it, and not pushed it. But— I don’t want to be here, and Taekwoon doesn’t want to be here. Our patience was run out.”  
  
Sanghyuk opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Jaehwan and I were talking about their maker,” he said slowly. He looked like he had more to say, wanted to say, but he held it back, looking frustrated. Finally he said, “I understand why Taekwoon wouldn’t want to be back here, and why Jaehwan is— Jaehwan.”  
  
“Their maker was very bad, wasn’t he?” Hakyeon murmured.  
  
Sanghyuk bit his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he said. “He was. You— you’ll need to talk to Taekwoon, though, if you want to know more.”  
  
Hakyeon fell back, a little. Taekwoon did not seem inclined to speak of any of it, and even though Hakyeon was curious, he also was not going to push him. Perhaps he would not actually want to know, anyway.   
  
“I’m okay not knowing, if Taekwoon doesn’t want to tell me,” Hakyeon said with a shrug. “He’s confided to me enough on the subject.”  
  
Sanghyuk shifted, expression unhappy, which was a feeling Hakyeon understood. It was— difficult, to imagine Taekwoon as a human, with his shy, sweet nature, being taken and murdered, ripped away from everything he held dear. And Jaehwan— Jaehwan may have leapt into the darkness willingly, but he hadn’t gotten what he’d bargained for either.   
  
Their maker had gotten the end he deserved, Hakyeon rather thought. Captured and killed by hunters.  
  
Jaehwan snuffled, roused by Sanghyuk’s movement, and he opened his eyes, his eyelids sticking together a little with dried blood and making Hakyeon wrinkle his nose. It took a second but then Jaehwan caught sight of Hakyeon, looming over him, and he gasped, sitting up and making a cross with his fingers.  
  
“Mercy,” Jaehwan croaked, and Sanghyuk sighed. Hakyeon’s softer emotions, his pity and sympathy, were washed away under a wave of general annoyance. “I’ve endured enough for today, I do not wish to fend off another attempted murder.”  
  
“I like you better sleeping,” Hakyeon snapped out. “I just came to check on you two— it’s late. And I am going out.”  
  
He turned sharply on his heel, and Sanghyuk asked, “Where are you going?”  
  
“Hiking,” Hakyeon said, walking out of the room.  
  
“Be sure to stay hydrated!” Jaehwan called, and Hakyeon shut the bedroom door behind himself.  
  
——  
  
“You shouldn’t antagonize Hakyeon,” Sanghyuk said, trying to sound reproachful but he couldn’t hide his smile.   
  
Jaehwan put his chin on the edge of the tub, his hair damp and slicked away from his face. “I don’t mean to— I am trying to make him laugh,” he muttered. “You found it funny. It isn’t my fault he has no sense of humor.”  
  
Sanghyuk leaned to the left, letting his side rest against the porcelain of the tub, his hand dipping into the water before touching Jaehwan’s bare shoulder. The rose petals swirled around his hand. “Are you feeling better?”  
  
The blood had been cleaned from Jaehwan’s face, but he still looked a little worn. “Yes. I think so,” he murmured, open and soft before some mischief crept into his eyes. “I’d be even better, if you were in here with me.”  
  
Sanghyuk bit back a smile. “I can kiss you just fine, from here.”  
  
“Please do then, I don’t have forever,” Jaehwan said, and Sanghyuk did smile, then.  
  
He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to Jaehwan’s in the gentlest of brushes, teasing and chaste. “Yes, you do.”  
  
There was a pinging, faint but insistent. Sanghyuk pulled away, looking to the cracked bathroom door, and Jaehwan pawed at his shoulders, leaving trails of water.   
  
“I need to get that,” Sanghyuk said, standing, and Jaehwan groaned, sinking back into the water theatrically, submerging himself in full.  
  
Sanghyuk got to his phone just before the call cut off, and he answered it before he could even process the identity of the caller. “Hello?”  
  
“Sanghyuk, you ass,” Ilhoon said from the other end of the line. The connection wasn’t great, so his voice was staticky. “We haven’t met up and I am going to die tonight.”  
  
Sanghyuk pulled the phone away from his ear so he could glare at it for a second. “You texted me like, last night, and some shit hit the fan.”   
  
“Ah, yeah, Hakyeon, I heard about that,” Ilhoon said, and it was clear he wasn’t actually angry. “Y’all are shaping up to be a nest.”  
  
“Maybe,” Sanghyuk said, looking to the bathroom where Jaehwan was still submerged in rose water. “Not a very good one.”  
  
“Anyway,” Ilhoon said, bringing them back to where he wanted them to be, “like I said, I am possibly going to die tonight, and I would like you to come by, to witness the horror.”  
  
“Your initiation?” Sanghyuk asked, and Ilhoon grunted an affirmative. “I really don’t think you’re going to die, Ilhoon. Kyungsoo isn’t that much of a jerk.”  
  
“Are you going to deny my final wish?”  
  
Sanghyuk rubbed his hand over his face. “No. Where do you want me to meet you?”  
  
Ilhoon made a pleased little noise and Sanghyuk rolled his eyes. “Our place, as soon as possible— we’re apparently just waiting on the last ingredient. Hyunsik is here, too.”  
  
There was the sound of rustling, and then Hyunsik’s voice. “Hey, Sanghyuk.”  
  
“Hi—” Sanghyuk said, but then there was more rustling and Ilhoon was back.  
  
“I’d say don’t bring the used toilet paper but I am sure that is a fruitless request, so I won’t,” Ilhoon said, and Sanghyuk heard Hyunsik click his tongue in disapproval.   
  
“Where I go, he goes,” Sanghyuk said, and if his voice was a little cool, well.  
  
“Alright alright, sorry,” Ilhoon said. “I’ll see you soon. Please— please hurry.”  
  
For the first time, Sanghyuk could detect a hint of genuine unease in Ilhoon’s voice. “I will.”  
  
Ilhoon hung up then, and Sanghyuk walked back into the bathroom. Jaehwan was still submerged in the tub, rose petals floating across the water over his face. Though to submerge his upper half he’d had to bend his legs, and the tops of his knees were poking out of the water.   
  
“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said, stuffing his phone into his back pocket. “I don’t trust you, I’m not getting near that tub. I know you can hear me.”   
  
Jaehwan brought his hands up to grip the edges of the tub and then he was pulling himself up, head tipped back to keep his hair off his face. He grinned, and it put Sanghyuk in mind of a fox. “And here I was hoping you’d let me tug you in,” he said.   
  
Sanghyuk squinted. “Not tonight. I have to go out, Ilhoon needs me.”  
  
“Oh?” Jaehwan asked, perking up. “Why, pray tell?”  
  
“His initiation is tonight,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan grinned even wider.   
  
“Ah, yes, we shouldn’t miss that.” Jaehwan stood up, the water sliding down his frame, and Sanghyuk decisively left the bathroom.


	6. Chapter 6

Taekwoon’s earliest memory was sitting beside his grandmother’s sickbed, reading aloud to her in a small, high voice. Death, he’d learned young, was ruthless and came for anyone, everyone, without mercy.  
  
He just hadn’t expected it would come for him so soon, so unexpectedly, so close to safety. The sound of his mother’s voice rang in his ears, candlelight spilling out of an open doorway as he knelt in the garden. Mint, she’d needed mint for her evening tea, and the leaves were fuzzy and small against his fingertips.  
  
Death had been there, watching, waiting, and Taekwoon had never stepped back through that open doorway again.  
  
——  
  
The moon was bright. Sanghyuk marvelled at it, after the darkness of the underground.   
  
Jaehwan held him close, flitting them through the night, to the next town over. Sanghyuk wished, not for the first time, that they hadn’t needed to dispose of his car.   
  
“His apartment—” Sanghyuk began as they approached the building.  
  
“I remember,” Jaehwan said, and before Sanghyuk could stop him, Jaehwan had leapt up to balance precariously on Ilhoon’s windowsill.  
  
“We can use the _door_ ,” Sanghyuk said shrilly, holding onto Jaehwan’s shoulders tightly.   
  
Jaehwan took one hand off Sanghyuk in favor of tugging the window open, grinning at how it was unlocked. “Why bother?” he asked, and slipped into the house, setting Sanghyuk down onto the carpet.  
  
It was warm inside, well lit, with both lamps and candles. Kyungsoo was there, and he didn’t even look up at them. There was a cloth spread out on the floor, about the size of a dinner table, with a pattern of a pentagram on it. Kyungsoo was sat at the center of it, stirring a pot that was cooking over a little portable stove. He had quite a few jars and vials around him.   
  
Even if Kyungsoo didn’t react to their presence, the others in the room did. Hyunsik was on the couch, and at their entrance he shrank back, clutching at the arm of the sofa, though to his credit, he didn’t go running for a knife.   
  
Ilhoon had been sitting, but then he was on his feet and throwing an empty mug at Jaehwan in flash.  
  
His aim was off. The mug sailed right past Jaehwan’s head and through the open window. There was a delayed _crash_ as it fell down several stories onto the concrete below.  
  
“Don’t,” Hyunsik said weakly, and far too late.  
  
“You startled me,” Ilhoon said to Jaehwan, glaring intently. “I liked that mug.”  
  
Jaehwan stared at him incredulously. “It’s not like I asked you to throw it. At my _face_.”  
  
Ilhoon’s nostrils flared in agitation, but Hyunsik reached out, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him back down beside him on the couch. “Hey, Sanghyuk,” Hyunsik said, smiling thinly. He looked pale, and Sanghyuk could already see the sweat beading on his skin.   
  
Jaehwan seemed to note that he was causing a bit of strain, so after he had helped Sanghyuk to the couch, he drew away, going to lurk over Kyungsoo instead.   
  
“If you step in this circle, you shall spend eternity bald,” Kyungsoo muttered, still without looking up, and Jaehwan backed up a few steps.  
  
Sanghyuk looked over everything Kyungsoo had around him, unfamiliar with most, if not all, of the ingredients. Then he looked to Ilhoon, who looked angrier than a disturbed hornet’s nest.   
  
“I’m glad I got here before your untimely death,” Sanghyuk said solemnly, and Hyunsik gave a small laugh even while Ilhoon glared.  
  
“Me too, and I am glad I got to see you before _yours_ ,” Ilhoon said, and he shifted his glare to Jaehwan for a moment before looking back at Sanghyuk with a, slightly, softened expression. “You look better.”  
  
“I feel better,” Sanghyuk said simply.   
  
“And even with the concussion gone, you still want to turn?” Ilhoon asked, straight to the point.  
  
Sanghyuk sensed rather than saw Jaehwan stiffen. “Yep,” Sanghyuk said, smiling, though he hoped the warning was clear enough in it.   
  
Ilhoon inhaled deeply, puffing up, as if he was about to deliver a grand speech, but then he gusted it all out on a sigh. “I guess none of us can lecture the others on bad life decisions,” Ilhoon muttered. He side eyed Jaehwan. “Though, really, I think you take the cake for it.”  
  
Jaehwan staggered backwards, clutching his chest as his back hit the wall. “Such disdain, such contempt, what have I done to deserve such treatment?” he asked. “No one seems to have any scruples about hurting my feelings.”  
  
“You threatened to kill me,” Ilhoon reminded him.  
  
“To protect Sanghyuk.”  
  
Ilhoon looked at Sanghyuk as if to say, _See? This is what I’m talking about_.  
  
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, just fuck and get it over with,” Kyungsoo snapped, turning the burner on low and then sitting back.   
  
Ilhoon spluttered, and Jaehwan looked taken aback. Sanghyuk looked down at his hands, smiling to himself.  
  
It was a funny thought.  
  
Jaehwan recovered fastest, and he shrugged, affecting a roguish smile. “I’m willing if he is, I suppose,” he said, and when he grinned, his fangs were run out.  
  
“Put those away,” Sanghyuk said, before Ilhoon could respond and send the whole thing into playground taunts. Hyunsik appeared horrified at the thought. Jaehwan shot Sanghyuk a look but before he said anything more, the wards rippled and there was a somewhat tentative knock at the door.   
  
“That’ll be Hakyeon,” Kyungsoo said. “Go let him in.”   
  
“Oh joy,” Jaehwan muttered as Ilhoon did as Kyungsoo asked. Hakyeon walked into the apartment looking downright feral, hair windswept and shoes muddy, claw marks over his arms that strangely hadn’t healed. He had a good sized bag in his hand, off-white canvas with runes painted on the sides. Whatever was in it was seeping some kind of viscous, black fluid, that made the material of the bag glisten sickly. Taekwoon followed behind Hakyeon, looking no worse for the wear.  
  
Hakyeon stomped right over to Kyungsoo so he could loom over him and hold the bag out. “Here,” he snapped, as the bag dripped onto Kyungsoo’s ritual cloth.  
  
“Is it dead?” Kyungsoo asked. “I told you I needed a live one.” He prodded at the bag with a finger and was rewarded by the contents shifting and giving out a very metallic-sounding hiss.  
  
“No,” Hakyeon said, stating the obvious.  
  
“What is that?” Ilhoon asked as he came back into the room. He circled widely around Taekwoon and Hakyeon as he did so. “It’s dripping on my carpet.”  
  
When Kyungsoo had poked the bag he’d gotten some of the black goo — it almost looked like oil — on his finger, and now he absently wiped it on his ritual cloth. “You can dump it out,” he said to Hakyeon.  
  
“It’s angry,” Hakyeon said, as if the claw marks over his forearms weren’t indication enough. But he obligingly upturned the bag and a large blob of matted fur and foul-smelling goop plopped out.  
  
It took Sanghyuk a few seconds to recognize what he was looking at. The blob moved, limbs separating from the mass, and eyes shone in a small face, reflecting light from the lamps. It was making a low, hissing sound as it looked around at them all, the thick black substance oozing from between its teeth.  
  
“That’s the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen,” Jaehwan said, and Ilhoon looked at him scathingly.  
  
“It’s a raccoon,” he snapped, and Sanghyuk looked back at the creature, which was still spitting and hissing, and rather thought it looked nothing like any raccoon — or cat —- he had ever seen before. Its fur was as black as the liquid seeping out of its mouth, though the shine of the fur was oddly green in the light. Even the damn thing’s teeth were black, properly on display as it snarled, hackles raised.   
  
“It was a raccoon,” Kyungsoo said. He reached for his bag, moving slowly, and the raccoon watched him with its glowing eyes. “It’s become a demon. There’s a lot of them out by the power plant on the other side of the mountains.”   
  
The room was starting to smell, even with the window open. It was a thick metallic and chemical sort of scent, and already it was beginning to make Sanghyuk lightheaded.  
  
“Uh,” Hyunsik said, “what are you doing to do with the demon raccoon?” He’d brought his legs up, tucking them atop the couch with the rest of him, as if he was afraid the creature might attack him. Sanghyuk, after a moment of thought, did the same.  
  
Kyungsoo pulled a dagger out of his bag, and it reminded Sanghyuk of his hunting daggers, but the runes on it were decidedly different. “I need its heart for this decoction,” he said, casual, like it was nothing. “Someone needs to come hold it still for me. It’ll have to be one of the vampires, because us humans would suffer for having touched it.”  
  
Hakyeon held his hands up, palms out. “Nope. I’ve done my part, and I have suffered enough for having touched it even as a vampire, thanks,” he said, and Taekwoon was frowning down at the creature, but made no move to step forward.   
  
Everyone looked at Jaehwan, who shook his head. “No.”  
  
“You owe me a debt too,” Kyungsoo pointed out. The demon had begun to shift, backing away, and Sanghyuk rather thought it would be unpleasant if it tried to bolt and they had to fish it out from under the couch.  
  
Jaehwan hissed, nose scrunched in disdain.   
  
The demon was slowly moving back, nearer to the couch, and Sanghyuk pressed himself back into the couch cushions. “Just do it before it tries to eat me,” he snapped.   
  
Jaehwan glared at him. “Fine,” he said, stepping forward carefully. “You’ll owe me for this, if you survive,” he added to Ilhoon, running his fingertip along Ilhoon’s jaw as he passed him. Ilhoon flinched away, giving a hiss of his own.  
  
The demon’s hissing increased in volume as Jaehwan approached it, hands out. He was moving slowly, until he was within reach, and then he grabbed it quickly by the shoulders, fingers curling around the upper parts of its front legs. The goal was, clearly, to stay out of reach of its oozing mouth and to prevent it from clawing at him. But he misjudged the back legs, and the claws on them, because the moment he’d grabbed it and picked it up, the back legs came kicking up and dug into the skin of his forearms, tearing lesions into them that immediately began to smoke, the skin bubbling a little.  
  
The demon was screaming angrily, back legs still flailing as it wriggled, and Jaehwan was screaming too, though probably in pain. In the next moment there was a blur as Jaehwan turned and whacked the demon’s head off the edge of the coffee table. There was a resounding _crack_ as the demon’s head bounced off the fake plywood, and then the demon promptly fell limp.   
  
“Don’t kill it!” Kyungsoo shrieked. “I need it alive—”  
  
Jaehwan let the creature go, and it flopped onto the floor, either dead or unconscious, and Jaehwan staggered back, cradling his arms to himself. Kyungsoo immediately surged forward to examine the demon.   
  
“Fuck,” Jaehwan gasped, hands balled into fists. “Fuck. That hurts like hell.” Sanghyuk got off the couch to go to him, hobbling over.  
  
“He did the same thing I did,” Hakyeon muttered under his breath. He held his clawed up arms out for emphasis. “Though I didn’t think to hit it on anything.”  
  
Sanghyuk grabbed Jaehwan’s wrists gently, pulling his arms away from his body. Jaehwan’s hands were covered in black sludge, and the wounds themselves were oozing red, from Jaehwan’s blood, and a bit of black. “What the fuck,” Sanghyuk asked, and Jaehwan pulled his arms away to resume holding them against his body.  
  
“It’s not dead,” Kyungsoo said triumphantly, poking at the demon so it was laying on its back. “Good.”  
  
“I’m going to be dead,” Jaehwan said, and Sanghyuk was relieved he was joking around, but he knew Jaehwan well enough to see he was in genuine pain. “Help me, you heartless, bug eyed—”  
  
“Go rinse the wounds in water, you giant baby,” Kyungsoo said, beginning to feel at the rib cage of the demon. “I’m busy.”  
  
“Come on,” Sanghyuk said, rather thinking he didn’t want to watch Kyungsoo cut the heart out of a demon anyway. “I’ll help you rinse them off.”  
  
Sanghyuk took Jaehwan by the shoulders, and the two of them hobbled off to the bathroom, which was somewhat cramped with the two of them in it. He closed the door behind them for good measure.   
  
Jaehwan was already at the shower, turning it on so he could hold both his forearms out under the spray. Sanghyuk went to him, reaching out to carefully swipe at the wounds with his fingertips, getting rid of the black gunk. Jaehwan hissed, wincing, and Sanghyuk could see sweat beading on his forehead.   
  
“Hakyeon’s didn’t look as bad as this,” Sanghyuk said, trying not to sound fussy, but he was concerned. The skin around the scratches was red, angry, bubbled up in spots. He let his hands fall away once all the black stuff was gone, not really sure what else to do.  
  
“He’s had a bit of time to heal, that is all,” Jaehwan said through gritted teeth. “I will heal as well, in time. Demons such as that one rely on their own toxins to infect other creatures. That is why they are so dangerous, to humans.”   
  
Sanghyuk swallowed, gently holding Jaehwan’s wrists, and the two of them watched the water cascade over Jaehwan’s skin until it was a little less red, and until the blood stopped. From the other room, Sanghyuk thought he heard retching, but he couldn’t be sure over the sound of the water hitting the tiles.  
  
“I think that is enough,” Jaehwan finally said, and he turned the shower off. Sanghyuk knew Ilhoon kept a first-aid kit somewhere, so he looked in the cabinet under the sink and found it. It was pointless, as Jaehwan was incapable of getting an infection, but the wounds still looked raw, and Sanghyuk wanted to put gauze on them if nothing else.  
  
It was surely a ridiculous process, but Jaehwan didn’t fight it, simply held still as Sanghyuk bandaged his forearms. “Does it still hurt a lot?” Sanghyuk asked.  
  
“Yes,” Jaehwan said, and Sanghyuk looked at him, concerned. Jaehwan stepped forward, curling against Sanghyuk, mouth against Sanghyuk’s neck. “I’m in agony. The worst I have ever felt.”  
  
Sanghyuk felt a stab of unease, even though he was fairly certain Jaehwan was just putting it on. He wrapped his arms around Jaehwan’s middle. “Even worse than when Taekwoon beat your head into the floor?”  
  
“That is a close contender,” Jaehwan sniffled, and Sanghyuk knew he was putting it on, now. Jaehwan did not cry from physical pain. “But this takes the cake, wins all the awards, has come out highest atop the mountain—”  
  
Sanghyuk pinched his ass, and Jaehwan broke off with a little sound of surprise. “You’re fine,” Sanghyuk said simply, and he quickly kissed Jaehwan’s temple before pulling away. “I need to go out and check if Ilhoon is still alive.”  
  
“I hope so, considering he now owes me a spectacular blowjob, at the least,” Jaehwan said, and Sanghyuk shot him a look.   
  
When they went back out into the living room, the scenery of things had changed a little. Kyungsoo was still sitting by his pot and burner on the floor, but Hakyeon and Taekwoon were gone, as was the demon and the bag it had come in. Ilhoon was on the couch beside Hyunsik, who had a small little trash can in his lap, that Sanghyuk assumed he was using as a barf bucket. Hyunsik looked downright green, and even Ilhoon was a bit pale.   
  
“Where did my brother and sister-in-law go?” Jaehwan asked. He went to the couch and sat beside Ilhoon, though he was a little hunched as he did so, still holding his arms to his body. Ilhoon made a face and scooted away from him.  
  
“They went to put the demon back,” Kyungsoo said, stirring at the decoction in the pot. It was suspiciously black now.  
  
“Without a heart?” Sanghyuk asked. He went over to the couch in turn and sat between Ilhoon and Jaehwan, squeezing himself in the narrow space.   
  
“Demons of that kind don’t need hearts,” Kyungsoo said, and then he was setting the wooden spoon aside and turning the burner off. For the first time, Sanghyuk saw his hands were covered in that black goo. “Ilhoon, come here.”  
  
Ilhoon pressed his lips together, eyeing the pot. “I think I may have changed my mind,” he said. “I don’t think I want anything to do with a mystical concoction of demon hearts.”  
  
“Come _here_ ,” Kyungsoo snapped, brow furrowing, and Ilhoon did so, muttering under his breath mutinously. Kyungsoo wiped his hands off on a stray cloth, and then picked up a small, shallow bowl, which he dipped into the pot. Once there was what he deemed a suitable amount of the— potion, decoction, demon heart elixir, in the bowl, he held it up for Ilhoon. “Drink it.”  
  
“Why?” Ilhoon asked, making no move to take the bowl. “What will it do?”  
  
“Make you sick,” Kyungsoo said, and that wasn’t exactly persuasive, judging by the look on Ilhoon’s face. “It is the same initiation I went through.”  
  
“Not comforting,” Ilhoon said, but he took the bowl. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself under his breath, and in the next moment he had put his lips to the edge of the bowl and tossed it back. There wasn’t a great deal of the decoction in the bowl, only two mouthfuls or so, and Ilhoon drank it like he would a shot.  
  
Hyunsik put his head in the bucket and dry heaved a little.  
  
“No,” Ilhoon said, then coughed, bending over with the force of it. “No— you are not allowed to barf, when I’m the one that just drank— that.” He hacked again, pressing a hand to his stomach. “Is it supposed to burn? It’s _burning_.”  
  
“It’s gonna suck when you poop later,” Jaehwan said, and Sanghyuk smacked his thigh.   
  
Ilhoon looked at Jaehwan incredulously, and Sanghyuk could see black on the insides of his lips, covering his teeth. “You’re—” Ilhoon began, but they didn’t get to hear what Jaehwan was, because Ilhoon suddenly dropped like a stone, and the bowl shattered as it hit the floor.   
  
——  
  
“Has Sanghyuk heard from Hyunsik yet tonight?” Hakyeon asked the room at large.   
  
Wonshik looked up from his laptop screen, blinking away the spots in his vision. “Yeah, that’s where he went. The usual, you know.”  
  
Hakyeon made a little noise, settling back into the cushy leather armchair, the one Jaehwan always favored. The scratches on his arms had all but healed, though they’d left faint scarring that still hadn’t faded, even after several days. “Consuming demon— anything, really, blood or flesh, just seems suicidal,” Hakyeon said darkly. “I’m amazed he hasn’t keeled over. For Sanghyuk’s sake, I really hope he doesn’t. He’s lost enough.”  
  
Hakyeon was gearing up to full fretting mode, so Hongbin spoke up soothingly. “Sanghyuk says he’s improving,” he said. “It’s just probably going to be a slow process, especially considering those scratches haven’t fully faded off either you or Jaehwan yet.”  
  
“I just don’t understand the _point_ ,” Hakyeon said, and Wonshik was in the same boat, if he was being honest. But he hadn’t really understood sorcerers when he was human, either. He just sort of assumed Kyungsoo knew what he was doing.  
  
  
——  
  
“You’re stupid,” Sanghyuk muttered, but the words lacked any real malice. Mostly he was exasperated.   
  
Ilhoon grinned up at Sanghyuk, who was sitting in the desk chair beside his bed, babysitting while Hyunsik went out, took a break. Ilhoon still looked like death, though less so than he had the day before, or the day before that. His cheeks lacked all color, skin reminding Sanghyuk of candle wax, pale and with a hint of translucency, and his eyes appeared sunken, bruised. He’d lost quite a bit of weight too; his wrists laying atop the blankets were as thin as Sanghyuk had ever seen.   
  
“You’re the one who told me to become Kyungsoo’s apprentice,” Ilhoon reminded him, and for all that his body looked like it was wasting away, his voice was strong.  
  
“That was before I knew he was going to have you drink poison,” Sanghyuk said.  
  
Ilhoon waved his hand, like he was batting the words away. “Details. It’s done,” he said. “And I’m not dead yet. Kyungsoo says I’m over the worst of it.”  
  
Sanghyuk pressed his lips together unhappily. “Was it worth it?”  
  
Ilhoon thought about it, looking up at the ceiling. His hair was a bit lank, but his eyes were bright. “It’s too soon to tell— I’ve felt very buzzy, you know, like I’ve got energy skittering over my skin. So I think it’s done _something_ , but hell if I know what.”  
  
He coughed, the sound rattling in his chest, and Sanghyuk handed him a tissue. Once the fit subsided, Sanghyuk glanced at the tissue, and saw just a bit of grey residue in it before Ilhoon crumpled it up.   
  
“My mouth still tastes like a dog shit in it,” Ilhoon said matter of factly. He tossed the crumpled tissue across the room, just missing the trash can.  
  
“Fun,” Sanghyuk said. Ilhoon made a kissy face at him and Sanghyuk couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m glad you’re getting better. I was worried.”  
  
“I know,” Ilhoon said. He let his hand fall over, the backs of his knuckles brushing across Sanghyuk’s knee. “I’ve been worried about you too, you know. I was hoping this process would give me a bit more clarity in my Sight, but it hasn’t. I’m sorry.”  
  
Sanghyuk shook his head. “I’ve decided, anyway, so I don’t think it would have made a difference.”  
  
He took Ilhoon’s hand in his, noted how cold his fingers were. “When are you going to turn?” Ilhoon asked, moving to cup his other hand over Sanghyuk’s, using him as a furnace.  
  
“I was going to wait until you were totally better,” Sanghyuk answered, “but to be honest, the longer I wait, the more jittery I get. Jaehwan won’t rush me, but— he’s concerned too. I think I need to just bite the bullet and get it over with.”  
  
Ilhoon’s face was passive; the only reaction he gave was to blink slowly. “So?” he said softly. “When?”  
  
Sanghyuk let go of Ilhoon’s hands so he could run his hands over his face, pressing on his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know,” Sanghyuk said. “I— maybe the night after tomorrow. I know some preparations need to be made.”  
  
“Sanghyuk,” Ilhoon said, a gentle reprimand in his voice, “you haven’t gone to see your parents.”  
  
Sanghyuk fought not to flinch, his heart dropping, palms already going clammy at the thought. “I know,” he murmured. “But Ilhoon— I keep trying, to call them and tell them I’m going to drive up, swing by, but— I don’t know if I can see them and act normal, act like it isn’t a goodbye.”  
  
“So you’re just not going to say goodbye?”  
  
Sanghyuk shook his head. He remembered Hakyeon’s advice, that he should close up this loose end, or he’d have cause to regret it. Hakyeon hadn’t had any family to mourn him. Sanghyuk had seen Sungjae’s parents, and he didn’t want to do this to his own. “I’m—” he began. “I’m going to keep in contact with them, for as long as I can.”  
  
“After you turn, you mean?” Ilhoon asked, and Sanghyuk nodded. Ilhoon heaved out a great sigh. “They’re going to want to see you eventually, you know.”  
  
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” he said, and Ilhoon gave him a look. Sanghyuk didn’t have a plan, but he thought this was better— to fool them, to fool everyone, into thinking he was fine. It was less work than faking his own death, and it would save his parents from mourning him so young.   
  
Finally, after staring so hard at Sanghyuk that Sanghyuk began to feel uncomfortable, Ilhoon shrugged. “I’m not going to lecture you,” he said, and Sanghyuk was relieved. “I don’t want to be Hakyeon. How’s living with him, by the way?”  
  
“He’s adjusting,” Sanghyuk said. “I think we all are.”  
  
Ilhoon grunted. “Yeah, we all are.”  
  
There was the sound of a car door slamming, and Sanghyuk stood to peer out the window. It was Hyunsik, getting out of the car they’d rented. “Ah, mom’s home,” Sanghyuk said, and Ilhoon grumbled, settling back into the bed.  
  
“Come see me, one last time, before you turn,” Ilhoon whispered, and Sanghyuk looked at him, a little uneasy at the thought. “You apparently fear goodbyes, but I need it, Sanghyuk.”  
  
Sanghyuk gripped the windowsill tightly, but he nodded. “I will,” he promised. He turned away, opening the window and poking his head out. “We can go home now,” he called to the darkness, and there was a flicker of movement to his right, and then Jaehwan was there, on the sill, balance precarious.   
  
“Your chariot awaits,” Jaehwan said, grinning. “And by chariot I mean me, you will be riding me, through the night. All night.”  
  
“I rescind your invitation,” Ilhoon murmured weakly. “Get out.”  
  
“I am not in your house,” Jaehwan said. He looked Ilhoon over. “You look like a haunch of pork that has gone off. And you smell like a demon.”  
  
Yes, that was what worried Sanghyuk. “Don’t be rude to him, he’ll be able to curse you soon.” Sanghyuk leaned out of the window so Jaehwan would be able to grab him, which he did. To do so he had to release his grip on the window frame, and the both of them tumbled backwards, the _swoosh_ of the fall not exactly pleasant. But Sanghyuk barely felt the landing, held up in Jaehwan’s arms.  
  
“I shall deliver you back to your residence shortly, good sir,” Jaehwan said, eyes bright under the clear sky.  
  
“Chariots can’t talk,” Sanghyuk reminded him. He leaned down, pressing their mouths together, and Jaehwan hummed contentedly.  
  
“They can’t kiss either,” he murmured, and Sanghyuk felt him smile. “Not the ones I used to have, anyway.”  
  
Sanghyuk nuzzled at Jaehwan’s jaw. “Let’s go home.”  
  
——  
  
“Sanghyuk and Jaehwan are back,” Hakyeon said, cocking his head to the side as the wards rippled. He was tucked into the preposterously oversized bed that was now theirs, the blankets a comforting weight on his legs. He was using pillows to prop himself up, a book he’d nicked from the library in his lap. It felt— it felt like he was home, and yet also still as if he was in some macabre theme park. “I hope everything is alright.”  
  
“I am sure if it is not, we shall find out soon,” Taekwoon murmured. He was puttering about the fireplace, putting wood in, trying to light it. Hakyeon watched him fondly. “I always regretted our old home did not have a fireplace.” He was on his fifth match. “I find them comforting, they remind me of when I was human.”  
  
“You needed them, back then, to live,” Hakyeon said, and Taekwoon seemed to have finally gotten one of the logs to light, the flames slowly spreading over the wood. “Whoever built our old place probably thought it was unnecessary.”  
  
“The warmth is still nice,” Taekwoon said.   
  
Hakyeon agreed; there was something basely soothing about having a fire. The wards of the house had settled, which meant Jaehwan and Sanghyuk were probably in their room; nothing was amiss, then. He leaned back into the pillows, closing his book so he could watch the fire grow.  
  
Taekwoon stayed kneeling by the fire, looking oddly catlike, eyes fixed on the flames. “You’ve been having a hard time,” he whispered, the firelight dancing over his features.  
  
Hakyeon put the book aside, on the nightstand. “I think the fire is doing fine,” he said airily, and smiled when Taekwoon turned to glare at him.   
  
“I was not talking to the fire,” Taekwoon grumbled. He rose from his haunches smoothly and came over to the bed, slipping in beside Hakyeon. “I was talking to you.”  
  
Hakyeon fought down a sigh. “I know.”  
  
Taekwoon looked at him seriously. “Is it so bad here?” he asked, reaching over for Hakyeon’s hands, holding them in his own.  
  
“It isn’t,” Hakyeon said honestly. He was getting used to it, to the dank halls and haunting atmosphere. It was easier than he thought, especially with Wonshik and Hongbin here. They, oddly, added a human dimension to it, brought life to the place. The incongruity of playing Monopoly atop a five century old table faded away under their banter and laughter. Especially when Hakyeon was winning. “I guess it’s just a lot to adjust to, and I am worried.”   
  
Taekwoon rubbed his thumb over Hakyeon’s knuckles soothingly. “About what?”  
  
“About Sanghyuk’s turning, if he dies it’s— it’s going to be hard, on all of us. Jaehwan is going to fall apart and Wonshik and Hongbin love both him and Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon whispered, and Taekwoon looked away. “And I’m worried about you too, being back here, after so long.” Hakyeon had made no mention of what Sanghyuk had said. He still didn’t want to push Taekwoon. They had all the time in the world, after all.  
  
“We can do nothing one way or another about Sanghyuk’s turning. It is only in fate’s hands,” Taekwoon murmured. “And as for being back in this place— I am alright being here, if you are alright being here.”  
  
Hakyeon leaned on Taekwoon’s side, head resting on his shoulder. “I’m alright wherever you are,” Hakyeon said honestly, and Taekwoon made a small, embarrassed little noise that had Hakyeon smiling.  
  
They watched the fire take properly, crackling in the hearth. It wasn’t so bad. It really wasn’t. They had a home and a family.   
  
Hakyeon hoped they could stay this way.  
  
——  
  
Jaehwan was running so warm, his skin feverishly hot against Sanghyuk’s. It was making sweat prickle on Sanghyuk’s skin, hairline already damp.   
  
“Jaehwan,” he whimpered, the word falling between their mouths before Jaehwan kissed him him again.   
  
“Are you still too bruised for this?” Jaehwan asked, punctuating each word with a burning kiss.   
  
Sanghyuk laughed. “Possibly,” he said, and Jaehwan pulled back with a frown. Sanghyuk smiled up at him, breathing a bit heavily. “Well, you asked.”  
  
Jaehwan flopped down, next to Sanghyuk on the bed. “I can be sweet with you,” Jaehwan said, and Sanghyuk shivered. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
Sanghyuk touched Jaehwan’s mouth, his swollen lips. “My ribs are still tender,” he said, and Jaehwan huffed out a sigh.   
  
“Heal faster,” he grumped, nibbling at the tips of Sanghyuk’s fingers.   
  
That reminded Sanghyuk. “You haven’t fed in a while.”  
  
“You need blood to heal; I haven’t wanted to deplete you,” Jaehwan said. He grabbed Sanghyuk’s wrist, nosing down along his palm, kissing over the delicate veins in his wrist.   
  
“This is one of your last chances,” Sanghyuk said, blurting it out because he needed to say it. Jaehwan let his wrist go, looking at him quizzically. Sanghyuk took a deep breath. “I told Ilhoon I’m turning in two days.”  
  
Jaehwan blinked, and Sanghyuk saw his fangs retract. “Why?”  
  
“Because I am,” Sanghyuk said, suddenly weary, worried about Jaehwan’s reaction. “If you’re ready for it.” He paused. “I’m ready for it.”  
  
Jaehwan— well, Jaehwan looked wary. “It could be done whenever you wished, I am at your disposal,” he murmured. “In the end it is your choice.”  
  
“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk whispered. He rolled over, his chest bumping Jaehwan’s and pushing him to lay on his back so Sanghyuk was half sprawled on him. “This is a two person issue.”  
  
Jaehwan shuddered out a breath, not meeting Sanghyuk’s eyes. “I wish you to be a vampire more than I can say,” Jaehwan said softly. “But I do not relish the process, and I am afraid that it isn’t going to work.”  
  
“That’s why I think it’s better to get it over with,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan met his eyes then, and he looked to be in pain.  
  
“Get it over with,” Jaehwan echoed. He touched the side of Sanghyuk’s face. “Yes, if it works, it shall be much less agonizing, than putting it off. But if it doesn’t— it shan’t be over for anyone but you. I told you many months ago, you shall never know, and it will be us, who will have to bury you.”  
  
“And the world will keep spinning,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan flinched back. “I did not spend all this time helping you learn to deal with painful emotions just to have it all undone by a cruel twist of fate.”  
  
Jaehwan laughed hollowly. “You have no concept of the mess inside of me,” he said. “It isn’t just that I will have lost you, it is also that I will have _killed_ you.”  
  
“You promised me,” Sanghyuk whispered, and Jaehwan shuddered against him.  
  
“I did,” Jaehwan said, flat, cold. “I did and I shan’t break it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not that you would know if I killed myself anyway.”  
  
Sanghyuk gently pinched him in reproach. “I just want you to be happy, Jaehwan,” he said. He lay his head on Jaehwan’s chest, curling in against him. “I love you, and I want you to _live_ , even if you have to do it without me.”  
  
Jaehwan wrapped his arm around Sanghyuk’s middle, holding him close. “I love you too,” he said, barely audible. “More than you could know.”  
  
Sanghyuk kissed his sternum, over his silent heart. Jaehwan was trembling, a little, and Sanghyuk found he was as well. “Can you sing for me?” Sanghyuk asked. “Please.”  
  
For a long time, Jaehwan didn’t reply, but then he began to sing, whispery and gentle. Sanghyuk put his head against Jaehwan’s chest once more, heard his voice reverberate through his lungs, and found it easier to ignore the lack of a heartbeat.  
  
“Love,” Sanghyuk whispered, and Jaehwan’s voice broke. Sanghyuk closed his eyes and kissed Jaehwan blindly.   
  
He couldn’t hurt him this way. Sanghyuk had to turn, yes, it would be done, but he could not put Jaehwan through agony, from beyond the grave.   
  
If the turning failed and Jaehwan wished to follow him into death, it was not on Sanghyuk to stop him, no matter how much he ached at the thought of it.


	7. Chapter 7

_ Jaehwan, _

_ I’ve never been good at this sort of thing. Writing was always something Hakyeon was good at, not me. But I know if you’re reading this letter, it means I am no longer there to tell you these things, so it’s important I try and get this down.  _

_ First off I want to tell you I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t survive. I don’t want you to blame yourself, because you know it wasn’t down to you, or me, this is something that was out of our hands.  _

_ Secondly, you made me a promise. But I am dead, and I know you, and I know you possibly made the promise without any intention of keeping it. I want you to know you may break it without guilt. I won’t force you to live, if the pain is too great. I know how you hold onto things, especially misery, and I don’t want you to live like that, if that is the only option. _

_ But love, please try. I don’t want you to live in pain, but I want you to live, Jaehwan. I love you so much, and I don’t want your life to end here, after centuries of loneliness and sadness, just because you lost me. It doesn’t seem fair. Life without me is still worth living. I promise. And there is still so much left for you. You have a family now, and they love you, Jaehwan. Let them take care of you, let them help you. _

_ I’m not the only one, Jaehwan. You once told me there were billions of humans on earth, that I was nothing special. You said it in anger, but you were right. I’m not special. None of us are.  _

_ You’re smart, Jaehwan, you’re bright and charming and beautiful, and there are others who could love you as much as I do, maybe more. And there are others you could love, who would give you fulfillment and happiness.  _

_ I want you to move on. I want you to love Wonshik and Hongbin, and Taekwoon and Hakyeon too. I can’t stop you, Jaehwan, from dying, but before you take your own life I beg you to at least try. Try for an hour, for a day, for a week, for a month, for a year. You’re stronger than you know. _

_ You’re so worth loving Jaehwan, you deserve happiness. And I just want you to be happy. _

_ You can be happy without me. _

——

It was sunny, the sky a bright crystalline blue. The sun shone through the windows of the car, warming Sanghyuk’s arm, his hands on the steering wheel. 

The engine was a smooth hum, very unlike Sanghyuk’s poor car, stuffed in some ditch somewhere. Legally he shouldn’t be driving this one, but Hyunsik trusted him not to run it into anything. Sanghyuk appreciated it. He had somewhere he needed to go, in daylight, and in solitude.

It was a bit of a long drive, and the scenery was fairly monotonous, cities and towns, but Sanghyuk was happy to be out, to get some space to clear his head. He hoped this venture would help with that.

There were a few times he wanted to turn back— but there wouldn’t be much point. Having Ilhoon with him would possibly detract from the closure of this, and having Jaehwan with him wasn’t really an option on the table. Not for this. 

The sun was still high in the sky when he arrived, parking the little rental car in a compact space. It was still brisk, Sanghyuk found when he stepped out, but nothing unbearable. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself and walked. 

There were trees looming over him, somewhat barren still because of the cold, and gravel crunched under Sanghyuk’s shoes. He passed the church, as imposing and cold as he remembered, and began the walk up the grassy hill. 

He hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t gone to look, and it took him a few moments to find the headstone he was searching for. They’d got a proper one by this point, and Sanghyuk sat in front of it, looking over the inscription. 

“ _A son, a friend, a fighter_ ,” he read aloud. “That’s lame. I’m sorry they put something lame on your headstone.”

There was no reply, of course, Sanghyuk would have been more traumatized if there had been one. A few birds were twittering overhead, and a bit down the hill, there were a couple other mourners, but other than that is was quiet. 

Sanghyuk ran his hand over his hair, not sure what he was doing. He scooted forward, so he could talk a bit more confidentially to the headstone. “Sungjae,” he murmured. Maybe he should have brought flowers. Or tequila. “They buried you kind of far, you know, or I’d have come sooner.”

He was already getting choked up, which was the dumbest thing. He was talking to a rock.

“It kind of sucks, without you,” he said. “I didn’t realize how much you affected Ilhoon’s moods. He’s kind of a grouch without you. Has he been by? He quit hunting, you know, he’s going to be a sorcerer.” A little breeze blew, feathering the grass over the headstone for a moment. Sanghyuk shivered. “I quit too. The vamp that got you— it got me. It got me but my friends killed it.”

Sanghyuk scrubbed his hands over his face, rubbing at the tears forming in his eyes. 

“I know you wouldn’t be mad at me for it,” he said, voice trembling, “but I feel guilty that I survived and you didn’t.” He touched the headstone, fingertips catching on the inscription. “I wish you were here to call me a dumbass.”

There was someone, a middle aged man, walking up the hill, and Sanghyuk waited until he had passed and was well out of earshot, before speaking again.

“I should have been honest with you when you were alive,” Sanghyuk whispered. “All this time— I’ve been seeing a vampire. I should have told you. It’s going to always bother me, that I’ll never know how you would have felt, about it. I like to think you would have— been okay with it, that we could have lived out a long friendship. But I’m not sure, and I’m not sure what you’d think now, either, given how you died.” 

He stared down at the cold grey stone. _Yook Sungjae_ , it said. He hadn’t even hit his twenty first birthday. 

The breeze blew again, stronger this time. A bird swooped by overhead, the sound of its wings through the air barely discernable. 

“You would have been okay with it,” Sanghyuk said, and stood. “I’ll come by again, but not too soon, I think. I’ll bring some shots by to make up for it.”

He waited, like there would be a reply, a sign. But there wasn’t one. There would never be one. So he simply brushed a stray leaf off the headstone and then headed back down the hill.

Once he was in the car, he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. So he locked the doors and pulled out his phone, dialling a well worn number, and waited.

The phone rang, and rang, and Sanghyuk was half disappointed and half relieved when it went to voicemail. “Hey mom,” he said into the recorder, voice scratchy, “dad, I just wanted to check in, say hi, see how you’re doing. I know I haven’t called in a while, and I’m sorry.” He paused, didn’t know what else to say, what else he could say. “I’ll shoot mom a text I guess, and talk to you in a few days.” He swallowed. “I love you.”

He hung up the phone and leaned forward, letting his forehead _thunk_ off the steering wheel.

——

Ilhoon’s apartment complex wasn’t exactly fancy, but it had a few nice aspects to it, like an on-site laundromat, a pool, a little park area with a small jungle gym, and some picnic tables. He was taking advantage of the sunny day to get some fresh air, laying atop a picnic table, sunning himself, like that would help his currently sallow complexion. If nothing else though, the sunlight warmed him, and he was so cold, these days. 

He heard footsteps, and he internally groaned, wondering if that woman had come back to pester him; she’d thought he was an eyesore and should move to the pool area, if he wanted to sunbathe. He’d flipped her off, and she’d huffed and gone away, but that wasn’t the point.

The footsteps continued to approach so he cracked an eye open and saw Sanghyuk coming towards him. “Hey,” he called weakly. 

“Hyunsik said you were out here,” Sanghyuk said, stopping beside him and putting his hands on his hips. “What are you doing?”

“Working on my golden glow,” Ilhoon said, and Sanghyuk raised an eyebrow. “I just thought the sunlight might be good for me. Demons don’t like sunlight.”

Sanghyuk turned his face up, towards the sun, and closed his eyes. “Yeah, I get where you’re coming from.”

“You’re not going to miss it?” Ilhoon asked, deliberately being a little sharp.

Sanghyuk turned, looking back at Ilhoon. “I probably will,” he said. “Or I might not, I don’t think vampires crave sunlight like humans do.”

“We’re never going to go to the movies together again. Or McDonald’s.”

“Ilhoon,” Sanghyuk sighed, and Ilhoon bit his bottom lip. “You’re not going to change my mind.”

Ilhoon stared up at the sky, the bright blue of it almost painful. His eyes were sensitive these days. “I just— I don’t know,” Ilhoon admitted. He thought of Sungjae, of the big, bloody gaping hole he’d left in Ilhoon’s life. “I don’t want to lose any more people I care about.”

“You’re not losing me, Ilhoon,” Sanghyuk said, and Ilhoon met his eyes. For the first time he realized Sanghyuk’s eyes were a bit red. Idly, Ilhoon wondered where he’d gone. “If I make it through the turning, we’ll still be friends.”

“I’m less worried about that outcome than the other.”

Sanghyuk bowed his head, feet scuffing on the grass. “You’ll be okay, even if I don’t make it,” he said, and it was like he was trying to convince himself as much as Ilhoon.

“I will, in the end, but I’ll be sad,” Ilhoon whispered. “So please make it.”

Sanghyuk leaned over, kissing Ilhoon’s cheek. His lips felt feverish on Ilhoon’s cold skin. “Believe me, I’ll try.”

——

Maybe Sanghyuk should go back to bed. That seemed the sensible option, considering how little sleep he’d gotten before going out, but when was Sanghyuk sensible, these days.

The big front door shut behind him, the sound of it echoing in the emptiness of the house. The sun was still very much in the sky, so of course, everyone here was still pressed down by it, sleeping soundly. 

Sanghyuk stood in the empty living room, and didn't know quite what to do with himself. He was beginning to think he should have allowed himself more of a grace period, because this happening tonight— it felt too surreal, too fast. But he couldn’t put it off. He couldn’t afford to put it off.

Unable to stand the vast, quiet space of the living room, Sanghyuk wandered to the kitchen, smaller and humbler. There was a book on the counter, and after grabbing a soda from the small fridge, Sanghyuk sat on a stool by the island and picked it up. It was one of the well thumbed thriller novels that Jaehwan gravitated towards. For someone who was so obsessed with the finer things in life, he seemed to enjoy the most shoddily written literature, Sanghyuk thought as he flipped through it. But it would do to pass the time, and maybe calm his nerves a little, so he opened to the first page and began to read.

It was surprising, how easy it was to get absorbed in the story, but maybe he’d been seeking an escape from his own thoughts. His mind was far too busy, and he prefered to just _do_ , and not have to think about everything so damn much. 

He lost track of how long he sat there for. His butt went numb on the minimally padded chair, but that wasn’t unusual, since his butt was minimally padded itself. But he knew that it was still early enough that he was surprised when he felt the warning prickles from his tattoos. 

He shut the book and smiled, easing, when he felt arms come across his shoulders, a heavy pressure on his back. Almost too heavy; it felt like someone was using him as a prop to hold themselves up. He had expected the body to be cold but instead it was warm, and Sanghyuk realised for the first time that he had been a little chilly sitting here alone. 

“Hello, love,” Jaehwan mumbled into his ear. 

“Hey,” Sanghyuk said. He reached up and squeezed Jaehwan’s hand, right above his heart. “What time is it?”

The answer took a while to come. “I don’t know,” Jaehwan said, his voice oddly slurred. “Early.” 

Sanghyuk twisted in his chair so that he could look at Jaehwan. He didn’t even have his eyes fully open, his face slack with sleepiness. His hair was ruffled, falling down over his forehead and into his eyes. He was wearing just a pair of pajama bottoms, slightly too low on the hips so that he was standing on the bottom hem of the legs. Sanghyuk couldn’t help smiling, warm and fond. “Is the sun even down yet?” he asked softly, gently.

Jaehwan seemed to have to think about that very, very hard. “Yes,” he said eventually, though he didn’t seem very convinced as to the validity of his answer. 

Sanghyuk hopped off the stool he had been sitting on, and Jaehwan stumbled forward a little. Apparently he really had been using Sanghyuk to prop himself up. Sanghyuk caught him by the elbows to hold him up, laughing at little, feeling weirdly giddy, all of a sudden. “Oh, man,” he said, watching Jaehwan blink sleepily at him. “How did you even find your way here without face planting into a wall?” 

“I followed the sound of your heartbeat,” Jaehwan mumbled. 

His heartbeat. He wasn’t going to have one for much longer. That thought rocked through Sanghyuk even though it was a line, Sanghyuk knew it was a line, because the wards wouldn’t allow it, but it still made his heart skip a beat right then. And Jaehwan would be able to hear it from _here_ , because they were touching, so close.

“Did I fluster you?” Jaehwan mumbled.

Sanghyuk cleared his throat, hoped for a steady voice. “No.” 

“You seem flustered.” 

“How would you know, you’re not even awake yet.” Sanghyuk tucked a hand around Jaehwan’s waist and began to steer him out of the room. “Come on, you need to go back to bed, need the rest. Sleep until the sun is actually down and you can keep your eyes open.” 

“I missed you,” Jaehwan slurred, leaning on Sanghyuk heavily. “I was worried. Where did you go?”

Sanghyuk swallowed. “I went to Sungjae’s grave,” he murmured, and Jaehwan looked at him, head lolling a bit. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, and he’d stopped walking. 

Sanghyuk stopped too, holding Jaehwan’s waist and looking over his sleepy face. “Yes,” he said, honestly. “I’m alright. I’m here.”

Jaehwan brought his hands up, placing them on Sanghyuk’s shoulders. His grip was weak. “Tell me,” he whispered, “if you change your mind.”

“I will,” Sanghyuk promised. “Now let’s get you back to bed.”

Jaehwan, surprisingly, chose to go willingly and obediently. He let Sanghyuk move him back in the direction of his bedroom, and Sanghyuk found himself wondering even more how he’d managed to make it all the way into the kitchen without hurting himself— although it was possible that he had hurt himself and simply healed before Sanghyuk saw him. Sanghyuk had to help him maneuver through doorways and around furniture. Sanghyuk wasn’t even convinced the sun _was_ down yet.

Sanghyuk was expecting Jaehwan to simply flop back into bed once they got into the bedroom but instead he shuffled towards it for a couple of steps, then stopped and looked back, looking a little more aware. “What?” Sanghyuk asked.

The next moment he found himself lying flat on his back on the bed with very little recollection as to how he got there. Jaehwan was heavy across his front, his face pressed firmly into the base of Sanghyuk’s throat. His hand slid possessively up the side of Sanghyuk’s shirt and then he went heavy and limp, pinning Sanghyuk where he was.

Sanghyuk struggled half-heartedly against him, forcing himself to laugh. His heart felt like it was going to pound right out of his chest. In the end he fell still, putting a hand over his face as his eyes prickled with a swell of emotion.

“You were flustered,” Jaehwan mumbled obstinately, his breath hot on Sanghyuk’s skin. Sanghyuk started, a little, because he thought Jaehwan had fallen back asleep. 

“If I say I was, will you go back to sleep?” Sanghyuk asked, voice gone thick. “I’m still not used to you being ridiculously sappy.” He paused, and added, “And I’m still not used to being in love with you and it affecting me.”

Jaehwan was silent for so long that Sanghyuk, again, thought he’d drifted off. “What are we doing, Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan whispered.

Sanghyuk closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure he even knew.

——

Taekwoon was gone. He’d left right after dusk, before Jaehwan and Sanghyuk had even arose. Jaehwan was glad for Taekwoon’s solidity— they had their differences, and Taekwoon was many things, but he was as reliable as a deeply rooted stone. Jaehwan trusted he would do what must be done, even if Jaehwan fell apart.

“When should we go?” Sanghyuk asked. He was a bit drawn, dark smudges under his eyes, but for all that he faced death tonight, he did not seem overly frightened. Jaehwan envied his calm.

They needed to give Taekwoon time, to ready the turning site— Jaehwan hadn’t been able to bear the thought of digging Sanghyuk’s grave himself, so Taekwoon had offered. Since he would need to be there through the turning anyway, it seemed sensible. At Sanghyuk’s request, none of the others would follow.

Jaehwan went to Sanghyuk, who was sitting on the edge of their bed, and took his shoulders in his hands. They’d gotten so broad, he’d become solid in his own way. “I imagine we have waited long enough,” Jaehwan murmured. “We could go whenever you’re ready.” 

Sanghyuk’s gaze dropped for a moment, looking to his own hands in his lap, then he gazed around the room, as if he was committing it all to memory. Or saying goodbye. 

“I guess we can leave, then,” Sanghyuk whispered, looking at their headboard, gaze unfocused. 

Jaehwan slid his hands down Sanghyuk’s arms, grasping his hands and tugging so he stood. Sanghyuk was taller than Jaehwan, would be for eternity if he survived, and Jaehwan couldn’t find it in himself to be upset by it anymore. 

Sanghyuk grabbed Jaehwan’s hips, brought their bodies together, and held him tightly against himself. They fit well, Jaehwan tucking his face against Sanghyuk’s neck, and he let himself bask in his feeling. 

“Are you still okay doing this?” Sanghyuk asked softly. He ran his hand over Jaehwan’s spine, which was becoming a habit Jaehwan had noticed— it was as if Sanghyuk thought Jaehwan an animal who often needed soothing.

Jaehwan felt like he was damning himself. “Yes.”

Sanghyuk pulled away, running his hand over the back of Jaehwan’s hair, also a soothing gesture. “You’re too stubborn and prideful to admit even if you weren’t,” he muttered, and Jaehwan turned to nip at his wrist. Sanghyuk drew his hand back.

For a second, a flash, Jaehwan was out of time, watching the scene from far away. It felt too surreal, to have Sanghyuk here, with him, loving him, his body grown tall and cheekbones sharp, hands soft on Jaehwan’s skin. There was something too fragile about it, too fleeting, like a flower in bloom, and Jaehwan was suddenly afraid it was nothing more than that, could be nothing more. 

Sanghyuk was mortal, his heartbeat pounding in Jaehwan’s ears, and the sheer fragility of it was overwhelming.

Wordlessly, Sanghyuk took Jaehwan’s hand and led him out of the room. Jaehwan followed, slightly dazed, hardly cataloguing anything around him. He should be leading, should be the one comforting Sanghyuk. But he felt like he was the one going to the gallows, and not Sanghyuk.

The others, sans Taekwoon, were waiting for them in the living room. They didn’t seem to have been talking, just standing about stiffly. Wonshik had been pacing, and he stopped to look at them. Hakyeon made to move forward, but he stopped himself. The silence stretched on, awkward and stilted, none of them knowing how to go about this. It had been different with Hakyeon, a long time coming, and Hakyeon had been older, his relationship with Taekwoon smoother. Jaehwan knew this was jarring, for all of them. 

Wonshik glanced between Sanghyuk and Jaehwan. His face was creased in that expression that Jaehwan always associated with unnaturally hard thinking on Wonshik’s part. “Kiddo,” he said finally, looking at Sanghyuk. “I know this whole thing hasn’t been ideal for you, from the beginning—” 

“Wonshik,” said Sanghyuk, shaking his head. 

“Let me finish,” Wonshik said, with a hint of a smile. “Hakyeon and I, we wanted what was best for you, but I don’t think we were ever going to be able to give you that. Both of us were too messed up. And this— this certainly isn’t what we would have wanted, or ever thought of, but—” He broke off and swallowed hard. “In the end, I guess what I’m trying to say is that, I’m going to be proud of being your blood brother.” 

Jaehwan blinked in surprise. Sanghyuk looked like he was going to start crying as he hugged Wonshik tightly for a second, before Wonshik pulled away, already uncomfortable with the emotional stuff. Luckily Hakyeon was on hand to step up to the plate. 

Hakyeon took Sanghyuk’s hands, pressing them between his own. He was silent for a long time, eyes looking carefully over Sanghyuk’s face. “Are you sure?” he asked eventually, in an undertone that everyone could hear. “It is not too late to go back.” 

Sanghyuk smiled weakly. Jaehwan swallowed, not angry at the question like he thought he’d be but trying not to let any of his fear that Sanghyuk would back out seep into his face. He thought that up until the moment Sanghyuk— well, Jaehwan would be fearing that until the very end, at least. 

“I know,” Sanghyuk said, squeezing Hakyeon’s hands. “I’m okay, Hakyeon. I’m going to be fine.” 

Hakyeon didn’t seem convinced by that. His eyes were filled with tears and one of them fell, leaving a streak of red down Hakyeon’s cheek. A moment later Sanghyuk was crushed into a hug. He was held there for a few seconds and then released. Hakyeon flitted away, hands pressed to his face to hide his tears. 

Hongbin stepped forward and kissed Sanghyuk on the forehead, a strangely maternal move. Sanghyuk looked surprised by it. “Good luck,” Hongbin murmured. He seemed so serene, despite the occasion. Jaehwan envied him that implacable calmness that he carried with him everywhere. Even knowing the origin was not enough to turn that feeling aside. 

Jaehwan touched Sanghyuk’s waist and Sanghyuk turned to him, biting his bottom lip, like he was fighting back his own tears. “Are you ready?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Sanghyuk said, but then pulled back suddenly with a small noise. “I forgot—” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a folded envelope. After a brief moment of hesitation, he handed it to Wonshik, who looked baffled, and also like he might cry.

“What’s this?” Wonshik asked, voice cracking a little.

Sanghyuk leaned against Jaehwan. “You’ll know when you read it,” Sanghyuk murmured. “I didn’t seal it.” He turned away, wrapping his arms around Jaehwan’s shoulders. “Now, we can go.”

Jaehwan swallowed, a little thickly, and opted to not ask questions. He put his arm around Sanghyuk’s waist, holding him close, and lifted him off the ground, bridal style. Sanghyuk huffed, no doubt embarrassed at such a position in front of his friends, but Jaehwan caught the tail end of a smile. 

They left the others behind, in darkness and silence. Jaehwan knew the coming hours would be difficult for them, those left behind. With Sanghyuk safe in his arms, it was easy for Jaehwan to move, flitting through the shadows faster than any human eye would be able to see. Sanghyuk closed his eyes and rested his head against Jaehwan’s shoulder, a heavy, solid weight. Their journey was not overly far but even so they seemed to come across the clearing far too quickly for Jaehwan’s liking. 

It was much the same as it had been when Taekwoon had turned Hakyeon, or when Jaehwan had turned Wonshik. There were a few clouds in the sky, blocking out swathes of the stars that could normally be seen, but the moon was bright and lit the area up with a silvery, ethereal light. Jaehwan would have thought it fitting if he was able to think at all. 

He could sense Taekwoon near, enough to have a presence but not enough to be seen or heard. He had dug the grave, wide and deep, and the sight of it chilled Jaehwan to the bone. He could not take his eyes away from it. This, then, was where it would happen, the defining moment of his long, sorry life. 

Sanghyuk had opened his eyes when they stopped and now he shifted, wanting to be set down. Jaehwan did so, battling the urge to pick him up again and run as far away from this place as possible. With Wonshik it had been easy, he had cared little about whether the man had lived or died. How desperately different he felt about it now. 

“That’s it?” Sanghyuk asked. He looked unsteady, and his voice was faint, but he walked to the edge of the grave and peered into it. “Is it good enough?” 

“Yes,” Jaehwan said. His voice broke; he tried again. “Yes, it is good enough.” 

Sanghyuk turned to look at him, his eyes soft in the moonlight. “Jaehwan—”

“Don’t,” said Jaehwan. He knew what Sanghyuk was going to say, and it was impossible. If Sanghyuk was not willing to back out, now, when he was looking at his own grave, then there was no way that Jaehwan could. Even just asking the question would be cruel. 

Sanghyuk held out his hand. Jaehwan stepped forward and took it, holding himself straight and upright. Sanghyuk lifted Jaehwan’s hand and kissed his knuckles softly. Jaehwan let out a sigh that was mostly a gasp. “It will be okay,” Sanghyuk said. “I’m not going to leave you.” 

“You won’t have a choice,” Jaehwan said. “It will be out of both our hands after a certain point. Your optimism is misplaced.” 

Sanghyuk sighed and tugged on his hand. “Come on,” he said. “It’ll be better to do this sooner rather than later.” 

Jaehwan took Sanghyuk by the waist again and lifted him down gently into the hole. It was deep enough that even Sanghyuk had to go on his tip-toes to look out. Taekwoon had worked hard on it, and it must have taken him some time. That was another thing Jaehwan would have to thank him for after this, either way it went. 

It was strange; Jaehwan had gone through this process in his head any number of times, thinking about how he would be when they were finally at this point, but now that it was happening everything seemed to go flying out of the window. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to speak without breaking. Sanghyuk looked at him, expecting further instruction. Jaehwan sat and silently beckoned Sanghyuk closer. Sanghyuk folded down in front of him, fitting himself sideways into the vee of Jaehwan’s legs. 

“You’re too tall,” Jaehwan said. His voice caught again. 

“Maybe you’re too short,” Sanghyuk said, and laughed softly when Jaehwan made a small indignant noise. Sanghyuk put his head back on Jaehwan’s shoulder and for the first time Jaehwan could feel him shaking. His heart seemed to be pounding fit to burst, and when he reached out for Jaehwan’s hand, his fingers were unable to grip at first. 

Jaehwan kissed his forehead, and then both his eyelids, nuzzling against his cheeks. He had no words of comfort to offer. He was so scared himself. If he had still been human, he thought this terror would have been enough to cause him to pass out. But then if he was still a human, he would never have met Sanghyuk in the first place. Neither of them would be in this position. 

“Are you ready?” Sanghyuk asked. He spoke through gritted teeth, the sounds hard won. 

_No_. “Yes,” Jaehwan said. “Are you?” 

“Yes,” Sanghyuk said. “Wait. Kiss me.” 

Jaehwan did so without a moment’s hesitation. He was shaking too and their mouths bumped at first, like two teenagers kissing for the very first time. A second later Sanghyuk’s mouth opened under his own, and Jaehwan kissed him with as much love and fear as he never thought he’d ever be made to feel. That love, even now, especially now, threatened to rend him limb from limb, leave him bleeding out from how strongly he felt it. Not for the first time, he wondered how anyone survived it; he wondered how anyone, like Taekwoon had suggested, came to live with it. 

Sanghyuk pulled away, gasping. “I love you,” he said, with so much sincerity, so much conviction, that it was almost worth it to be in this moment to hear it. 

Jaehwan choked back a sob. “I love you too,” he managed, and could not go on any further, though he wished to. There was so much he wanted Sanghyuk to know, and this may be the last moment he had. 

Sanghyuk threaded his hands through Jaehwan’s hair and pulled his face down to his throat. Jaehwan breathed him in, the living smell of him, the warmth of his skin and the quick beating of his heart. Soon this would all be gone. “Do it,” Sanghyuk said. “Now, please.” 

Jaehwan put his mouth against the hard throb of Sanghyuk’s pulse in his neck and sank his fangs into the soft, yielding skin. For once, the first splash of blood over his tongue almost made him gag. He was gentler than he had been with Wonshik, kept his bite as clean as possible but he’d had to bite deeply, and the blood flowed out thickly. Sanghyuk made a soft sound of pain but then fell quiet and cradled Jaehwan’s head to his neck with one hand, and the other, damn him, was stroking down along Jaehwan’s spine. 

He could not fool himself that he was feeding from someone else. Nor could he pretend like this was anything he had done with Sanghyuk before; he had never taken this much from Sanghyuk. It had only ever been enough to sate and not enough to glut himself like this. The blood felt heavy inside of him, an emotional and physical weight. 

Jaehwan bit again, a little lower, a little harder, and Sanghyuk made another pained sound that had Jaehwan holding back another sob. Sanghyuk’s hand had stopped moving on Jaehwan’s back, and the one tangled in Jaehwan’s hair had loosened. Before long they were clinging and pulling as he struggled to keep them up. His shoulders slumped and his whole body rested against Jaehwan, as he drank and drank. His heartbeat was growing slower. The warmth left his skin in slow increments, until he shivered and tried to turn into Jaehwan’s warmth. 

Jaehwan kept feeding, fueled by a desperation that was not hunger but the exact opposite. A desperation that wanted this to be over as soon as possible. Sanghyuk was bleeding out in his arms, dying slowly and he was the cause, his own love would soon be nothing more than a cold, empty shell, and he was—

Sanghyuk’s hands fell to the ground with a heavy thud. He spasmed in Jaehwan’s arms, weakly but enough to dislodge Jaehwan’s mouth. The blood felt sticky around his lips. He wanted to wipe it away but how could he, how could he, when there was still so much left to drink.

Sanghyuk started to pant, a pained sound. His eyes, when they opened and gazed at Jaehwan, were glazed with pain and fear, and he couldn’t hold his head up. “Jaehwan,” he breathed out, and then gave a wheezing sound, air rattling in his lungs. 

There were tears, spilling hot and stinging over Jaehwan’s cheeks. A sob caught in his throat, he had to finish, he had to, but he was numb with fear and agony.

“I can’t,” Jaehwan gasped, then louder; “oh God, I can’t do this.”

Sanghyuk was still panting, breathing sharp and shallow. He was trying to sound out Jaehwan’s name, perhaps asking him to continue, but Jaehwan couldn’t. He was a coward, yes, but he had always known that. It wasn’t until this moment that he realised he was not a person who could murder Sanghyuk. He would rather die himself. 

He felt rather than heard Taekwoon come to his side, the soft earth muffling his movement. “You must finish,” Taekwoon said in his soft voice, barely audible over Jaehwan’s sobs and Sanghyuk’s dying gasps. 

“I cannot,” Jaehwan moaned. “Don’t ask me—” 

Taekwoon touched his shoulder. “He is in pain,” Taekwoon said. “He will not survive at this point, either way. You need to put him out of his present misery.” 

Jaehwan slumped forward, forehead resting on Sanghyuk’s sternum, over the weak, fluttery beating of his heart, and wept ever harder. He was unable to move. Either way, now, he had killed Sanghyuk. He would be dead, gone; if the magic didn’t take hold, then Jaehwan would be responsible for the loss of the only thing in the world that he truly cared about.

He lifted his face to Taekwoon, whose expression was as unmoved as ever. “Please,” he whispered. “Please.” 

Taekwoon was still for a moment and then inclined his head. He knelt beside Sanghyuk, grabbed his wrist and quickly pushed the sleeve of his sweater up. Jaehwan looked away, rested his hand on Sanghyuk’s cheek, staring into his glazed eyes. “I’m sorry,” Jaehwan whispered. “Love, I’m sorry.”

Sanghyuk made an effort to focus on Jaehwan’s face, and his lips moved, a whisper that even Jaehwan could not make out. Jaehwan didn’t see Taekwoon bite into the crook of Sanghyuk’s arm, but Jaehwan knew he had done, for he could hear Taekwoon drinking, finishing the deed that Jaehwan was too weak for. Sanghyuk hadn’t reacted to the sensation of a new bite, lay limp and heavy in Jaehwan’s lap, still panting. And soon afterwards, even that stopped, as Sanghyuk fell utterly quiet. His gaze went from Jaehwan’s face, going beyond him, to the sky, changing from glazed to empty, and his heartbeat slowed until it was barely anything. Jaehwan could not help but feel for it, and when it went still, the lack of it filled Jaehwan’s head until he thought he might fall apart screaming.

Jaehwan could not faint, he nearly wished he could, but he lost himself, for a moment, everything fading out from around him. He wasn’t aware of moving, wasn’t aware of the sounds spilling from his mouth, wretched and unstoppable. When he was next aware of himself, he was standing above the dug out grave, looking down at Sanghyuk lying in the cool, damp earth. His sweater was coated in the blood that Jaehwan hadn’t been able to drink. He looked very, very dead.

Jaehwan turned and staggered towards a tree where he kneeled in the roots and threw up, crimson and burning. The tears wrenched from him with a force that jerked his whole body. He thought he would have taken the pain of Sanghyuk saying he didn’t love him a thousand times over this pain.

There was a long silence, or perhaps Jaehwan just lost track of the time, as he lay on the ground crying. Taekwoon’s hand against his back was unwelcome. Jaehwan looked up at him and saw that Taekwoon’s mouth was also red with blood, although his clothes were free of it. “You must come,” Taekwoon said. There was something in his voice that Jaehwan both hated and desired; pity, perhaps, or sympathy.

Taekwoon helped him to his feet. If he didn’t know better, he would think it day time, with how weak and empty he felt. He staggered to the edge of the grave and let himself down into it. Taekwoon had moved Sanghyuk’s— body, his body, arranged it so he lay on his back, arms folded across his chest in a way he would never have done in his sleep. Jaehwan had seen bodies bled dry before, of course, had seen it countless times in his own victims, but seeing Sanghyuk as such was a horror that he would be carrying for the rest of his life, however long that proved to be. Taekwoon had closed Sanghyuk’s eyes, hiding that empty gaze, his eyelids a sickly shade of lilac.

Jaehwan kneeled down by his body and touched Sanghyuk’s cheek, still warm, but too cold to be mistaken for life. Taekwoon moved beside him but Jaehwan didn’t need him for this. He bit at his wrist, tearing open a wound that was far too large for the task, but painful enough to serve as a temporary atonement for what he had done. The blood cascaded over his wrist and landed on Sanghyuk’s jaw and throat, until Jaehwan titled his wrist and let it trickle into Sanghyuk’s mouth. 

He didn’t know how much was enough, if more would increase the chances of it working. He was willing to give all that he had if that were the case. In the end Taekwoon gently took his wrist and pulled it away. He wiped at Jaehwan’s wrist with his fingertips, as if Jaehwan needed to be cleaned off, but Jaehwan let him do it, too dazed to protest. 

He lay down when Taekwoon was done, tugging Sanghyuk close. He had thought it odd when Taekwoon had held Hakyeon’s body during his turning, but now he couldn’t bear the thought of not doing so. He pressed his face to Sanghyuk’s hair, tears falling afresh and staining the strands with blood. 

Taekwoon left them laying in the grave, wordless, and Jaehwan was glad for it. A minute passed before he felt the first brush of soil hitting him, the thump of it against the ground. Taekwoon worked silently, burying them into their grave. It was over, it was done. If Sanghyuk didn’t rise the next night, then Jaehwan would cease to be. 

As the last shovel of dirt closed them into darkness, Jaehwan gripped Sanghyuk’s body more tightly and hoped for life. 

——

It was so quiet, as if the house, the bricks, the very air, was in stasis. Wonshik stared up at the ceiling, tucked under his blankets, Hongbin pressed silently against his side. 

They stayed that way — as if they were lying dead in a grave themselves, and maybe they sort of were — until the house wards finally rippled in disturbance. It wasn’t enough to move them, to lift this energy hovering in the foundations, but it meant Wonshik could finally close his eyes.

“It’s done,” Hongbin whispered. 

Wonshik swallowed thickly. “Sleep.”

——

Hakyeon was brought out of slumber by an insistent chiming sound, very near to his ear.

It was daytime, he rather thought. The sun, the daylight, clung to his mind, weighing him down, but the sound was insistent. It was his charm. He remembered.

Hakyeon’s eyes shot open, and he sat bolt upright, hand coming up to grab at the charm. It muffled the sound, but the peeping continued, excited, like an alarm. What time was it, he wondered, eyes skittering over the clock on their mantel. It wasn’t daylight, it was time, the sun would barely be down, but—

“Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon whispered. He turned, slapping Taekwoon on the arm. “Get up,” he said, voice still scratchy from sleep. He was already out of bed, dressing. “Get up, get up.”

Taekwoon was a bit slower to move, raising himself up as if the bed held tendrils to him. He’d been exhausted when he’d returned from— he’d been exhausted. And when Hakyeon had leaned in to hold him, Taekwoon’s mouth had smelled like Sanghyuk’s blood.

Hakyeon couldn’t think about it too hard, he felt sick over it all. It was done, and now they could only see the results. 

He was out of the room, sprinting down the hall when Taekwoon was still dressing. As he passed Wonshik and Hongbin’s room, he hit his palms against the wood in quick succession. “Wake up!” he called. ”It’s sundown!” His charm echoed his tone.

From there Hakyeon didn’t pause, running, feeling the strength of his body as the sunlight waned. The house flickered past him, then the tunnels, and then he was up on the streets, under a large moon. He was nearly lightheaded with how frantic he was, even though he lacked a heartbeat. The fear fueled him, and he resumed running, feet falling silently over the concrete. Taekwoon was there, catching up with ease, and he made no move to speak. There was nothing to say.

Around them, the sky went from steely grey to deep indigo, and the moon shone ever brighter for it. The concrete gave way to earth, to rotting leaves, ferns slapping at Hakyeon’s calves.

He hadn’t been back, not since his turning— it seemed like holy ground, holy and yet tainted. But he remembered where to go, like he had some kind of internal compass. Maybe he did, for this.

He wasn’t sure what he expected; perhaps Sanghyuk to be standing there, waiting for him, but when the old trees gave way to the clearing, there was only a fresh grave, the dirt a smooth mound, dark and rich. 

There was sweat on Hakyeon’s brow, unnecessary and prickling. He wanted to go forward, to dig, but Taekwoon had a hand on his upper arm, steadying him. 

“I don’t hear anything,” he said, lips feeling numb.

Taekwoon turned away, to look behind them. “I do.”

Hakyeon turned as well to see Wonshik and Hongbin coming out from the brush, looking windswept and wide eyed. 

“I didn’t mean them,” Hakyeon said, and Taekwoon squeezed his arm gently. His charm pinged.

“I know.”

Wonshik gestured at the pile of dirt. “When do you think—”

There was a soft shuffling sound, and all of them snapped to look at the grave. It took a moment, but then there was movement, and a hand was breaking free of the earth. Hakyeon recognized the sleeve, and his stomach sank even before Jaehwan had pulled himself free. He was filthy, face streaked with mud and dried blood. 

Dirt fell from Jaehwan’s hair, and he blinked it out of his lashes so he could gaze up at them all, eyes skittering over each of them one by one. “You’re here,” he said, still curled into the dirt, and Hakyeon recognized the fear in his voice; it was the same one that rang out in Hakyeon’s. “Is it—”

“It is not late,” Taekwoon said in a soft, urgent undertone, “the sun has only just recently set—”

Jaehwan paid him no heed, and he knelt over the dirt and began to dig frantically, as Hakyeon had wished to. After a moment, Wonshik fell down beside him, helping him to move the earth aside. Hakyeon might have joined them, but Taekwoon still held him back, and Hongbin watched the whole thing unmoving and silent.

It didn’t take long, surely, but it felt like an eternity before they reached Sanghyuk, motionless and— very dead. Somehow Hakyeon hadn’t fully come to terms with it, that Sanghyuk was actually under there, lifeless. That he’d had to die for this. The lack of heartbeat, of color in his cheeks, was a difficult thing to swallow.

Jaehwan grabbed at him, lifting him semi-out of the dirt. Now, Taekwoon let Hakyeon go, and he rushed forward, falling to his knees beside Wonshik. He wanted to touch Sanghyuk, but somehow, felt it wasn’t his place.

It didn’t matter, Jaehwan was doing it for him, pushing Sanghyuk’s hair back from his face, matted with dirt and blood. “Sanghyuk,” he gasped, “love.”

Jaehwan brushed the dirt tenderly off Sanghyuk’s lashes, and they quivered under his fingertips. In a snap, Jaehwan jerked his hand back, and after a moment, a heartbeat none of them had, Sanghyuk’s eyes blinked open.


End file.
